


the gears in your head

by parishilton



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Chaptered, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parishilton/pseuds/parishilton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis thinks he’s ready for a completely new life with completely new rules to live by, but then there’s harry. harry is more unpredictable than any virus and latches on ten times faster, all need to please to some elders while somehow toting around a total lack of regard for others, especially authority figures like teachers, cops, and probation workers alike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i've already posted the first eight parts of this (out of ten) on tumblr several months back... but this is so much neater and cleaner. (title from the song "two" by the antlers.)

louis honestly doesn’t know what to say. maybe he just wasn’t built the way other men were - stronger than him with an amount of willpower that reaches far beyond the amount of anything louis’ ever had. sans maybe the depraved thoughts that only a sixty-five year old drunk in a rotten old pub should ever have, eyeing the pretty young things in daisy duke hot shorts like they were a bloody steak and he was dying of hunger. 

he never asked for this, never enticed anyone. he wasn’t guilty of anything apart from maybe statutory rape, if that. so, when he tells this story, you’d better believe he’s not trying to paint himself white - it’s just that he deserves a little bit of acknowledgment for not initiating it and for not trying to further it past a one time mistake. 

which is what it would have amounted to if it had happened to anyone apart from louis tomlinson. 

ladies and gentlemen of the jury, he’s always been a stand-up and respectable guy. he’s the guy who lets you pass at the traffic lights, the guy who stops and helps you pick up your spilt groceries, the guy who opens the door for you when you’re still a yard away in the shopping district. 

he’s not some kind of sick pervert. he was charmed into this relationship, entrapped by somebody with a lot more power than louis himself has. take a look at some crazy bastard locked up in a cell with a country man’s bowlegged swagger, missing teeth, and piss stains on his uniform trousers - and then take a look at louis tomlinson. 

who looks like the one who’s fucking his brother? 

see, he would to have had to have been bewitched.

.

louis has had the same exact routine for as long as he can remember. everything in his life is carefully planned out and intricately formulated so as to limit the number of surprises he has to face right down to the necessary evils. 

he buys his groceries for himself and his roomate niall in bulk so he only has to get the groceries once a month. that means he only has to run into the druggie cashier girl with the stretched ears and the tatted-up arm and red highlights once every month. he renews his newspaper subscription over the phone six months in advance so he only has to speak to one of those representatives with the fake perky tones and overdone giggles once a year. 

see? necessary evils. 

so, when all of a sudden, his mum’s died - it’s like a total and complete shock. it’s like something straight out of a tragedy movie - one of those cliche daytime programs old nanas with afghans watch because they’re retired and have no other ways of spending their time.

he gets a call - he’s his mother’s emergency contact. at the time, he’d been grocery shopping. and this is just how fucked up louis’ mind is: before he thinks about the chances of her recovery, or even how long it will take him to get the hospital if he leaves right now, he’s debating on whether or not he should pay for his toilet paper in bulk first or not. 

and then he’s trying to rationalize that thought it in his head as he’s leaving his cart behind. he and niall went through a lot of food, you know? niall ate like a fucking farm animal. everyone knew that. it’s not like he could let the poor lad starve.

despicable. 

he gets to the hospital and can’t find a fucking parking spot. he drives around in aimless circles with his hands clenched tight around the steering wheel while he checks over the same sections three times, four. then, he’s fast walking through the door, up to the window. a woman tells him which way to head. she’s snapping gum, like louis’ jumpiness is an everyday thing for her - which, it probably is. 

his mum’s in bed asleep - no, unconscious, he thinks. her hair is looking limp and lackluster and tangled. there’s a big red mark like two claw marks on her forehead covered only halfway up with a bandage. he thinks of her taking band-aids in her mouth while her hands were occupied with ice packs, pressing them down onto louis’ bloody knees when he was young. he’d ducked out to try and save a rabbit that was in the split center of the road, but missed and had to watch the rabbit die as nothing more than road kill. his mother had tended to his tears and the skid marks on his legs with a kind of profound wisdom and tender generosity. 

now, though, she’s a product of road kill herself. literally.

they’ve got that little white thing attached to her finger and there’s a machine making quiet beeps and buzzes next to her. 

louis stops short in the doorway, hand covering his mouth. a nurse stops by, stocky with short, mannish hair, and wearing all purple scrubs. louis wants to ask if she’s going to be okay, but nothing comes out. the nurse must see this seven times a day because she answers without having to hear his question. 

“she’s been hurt pretty badly. i’m sorry, sweetheart.” she places her hand on his forearm and louis’ just inching away by the millisecond, uncomfortable and confused. “she’s probably got about three days. i read you have a younger brother up in the mountains. should we try and get him down here on time?”

louis balks. soon after this, someone stops by and hands him papers on arranging funerals and a pamphlet detailing the prices of caskets. louis’ hands shake as he all but vomits in his lap on the spot. was this the normal protocol? announcing the impending death of a loved one and then expecting the only caring family member left to handle everything with the utmost amount of carefully planned out diligence and composure?

because louis doesn’t remember writing out a fucking pro and con list in the event of his mother’s untimely death. 

-

louis’ younger brother harry is seventeen, but that’s all louis can really tell anyone when they ask. the nurses try to occupy him while he waits around those last three days by his mum’s bed. they keep asking him what his little brother’s favorite food is and what his little brother wants to go to uni for. louis scoffs. harry probably doesn’t want to go to uni. harry was shoplifting cigarettes from the corner liquor store at twelve and sneaking girls into his bedroom at fourteen. 

those last three days, and yeah, the death was right on schedule, were terrible. louis spends most of them couped up in the room alone trying to arrange the flowers he’s bought her in the gift wing without a proper vase, so they keep falling down onto the windowsill looking sad and old by the barred up windows. 

when his mum finally goes, never waking up first to say a proper goodbye, louis has to wonder how the doctors got the hypothesized time left so accurately promised. it was almost like being on the waiting line to get through to apple when louis needed his ipod replaced a few months back. the woman had said he’d be waiting between five and eight minutes. and what do you know, he waited six and a half on the dot. 

louis decides he hates the predictability of everything and promises to himself that he’s going to stop putting lists up on the fridge of his upcoming dentist appointments, stop leaving niall post-its on his bedroom door on the chance of rain during the weekend. 

he thinks he’s ready for a completely new life with completely new rules to live by, but then there’s harry. harry is more unpredictable than any virus and latches on ten times faster, all need to please to some elders while somehow toting around a total lack of regard for others, especially authority figures like teachers, cops, and probation workers alike. 

harry digs himself six feet under louis’ nicely structured life goals and retirement plans and then everything is upside down and disorientingly different until louis barely recognizes his own life anymore.

and maybe it’s just what he needs to get back off his feet.

-

louis is finally able to get in touch with the administration of harry’s boarding school up in the mountains two days after their mum’s died. the bitch on the phone doesn’t even let louis speak to harry, only gives him her extremely distrustful word that she’ll tell him about the fucking family crisis, which is what louis keeps having to repeat to people over and over again when they ask what’s wrong. and so that’s it. he has to wait.

louis waits around in his and niall’s flat alone five days of that first week because niall senses he isn’t welcome what with louis slouching around teary-eyed and half naked all the time. with his hands constantly occupying ice cream containers and mugs of black coffee, louis watches running with scissors and little miss sunshine on repeat until he’s got all the lines rolling around in his head when he finally speaks to someone from the school again, and almost dishes out some of them by accident. he thinks he’s actually rather lucky his own school board decided to let him take a week off from his classes. they seem a hell of a lot less strict than harry’s uptight administration. 

a man speaks to louis this time, says he’s sorry for the loss, blah blah blah. louis’ already gotten that shit from the school board, niall and niall’s boyfriend liam, the junkie redhead at the grocery shop when he goes uncharacteristically on a monday afternoon to pick up more coffee flavored ice cream. he’s about had it with false apologies. 

the man says the hospital has contacted him and if louis so desires he can have harry shipped back home, so to speak. however, there isn’t going to be the same home left for harry when the kid was last there for any length of time at twelve years old. 

louis debates on this for about thirty seconds before he decides it’d be easier to just have harry around to reassure himself that he still has some family left. although it’s probably bound to be awkward the first couple months, considering that louis hasn’t spent quality time with harry since he was about twelve and harry was nine. before harry was sent off to boarding school, he was frequently at their deadbeat dad’s place on the weekends while louis was out of town being tutored by an old family friend in chemistry and algebra.

louis couldn’t imagine a universe where their dad wouldn’t have caused harry’s rebellious streak, although he supposes it’d be unfair to attribute all of that to one person. harry could have chosen to be more like their mum - like louis had early on. but there was always something attractive to harry about their dad’s careless and reckless behavior that louis had never understood at fifteen and still doesn’t understand now.

the guy was a total loser. now that harry hasn’t seen him in several years, louis hopes harry’s had some positive influences up there in the mountains and will come home a new person. the last thing louis needs right now, even when he is looking for some excitement, is a problem child throwing hissy fits and creating an uproar in town, preventing louis from properly mourning their mum’s death and ever getting anywhere in life by keeping up with all of his uni assignments.


	2. part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i think i forgot what you looked like, because i feel like i’m meeting a stranger.” harry has a duffle bag slung over his back that he decides to put down in the living room as he tensely bites his lip.
> 
> louis nods. “yeah, this is a bit weird. you don’t really look seventeen.”
> 
> “that’s what all the boys say,” harry quips easily.

the day before harry will show up in the flat, louis races around trying to tidy the place up. niall has finally decided to come back round after, as louis believes he can readily presume after knowing the lads so long, liam has grown tired of niall’s drinking and has kicked him out. liam was born with only one kidney for some inexplicable reason and consequently cannot do much drinking himself. unfortunately for him, his boyfriend is halfway to the point where the term “alcoholic” becomes applicable.

the two sometimes get into arguments (but never full-blown fights, louis notices) that start with snide little comments until the passive aggressive routine wears out and they make up with grilled cheese sandwiches and pot. louis himself hates it because not only does he have to block his nose passing through the living room to the kitchen to put a kettle on for tea, but also because they leave crumbs all over the couch and louis is reduced to playing maid again since niall couldn’t even turn a vacuum on if he tried.

while louis slips around the wooden floors with his socks on, niall chuckles from his place on the couch where he’s setting up a game of solitaire for himself on the coffee table. louis curses when he notices that he’s sucked up a red spade between the area rug and a crack in the flooring. niall and liam had been playing poker the night before until the wee morning hours while louis had been nodding off in his bedroom trying to read his coursework.

“mate, now i’m going to be short a card. you can’t win at solitaire if you don’t have a full deck.” niall glares at louis, grabbing at the baseball cap he has on and whipping it onto the table. it scatters half the deck onto the floor. “and i’m the king of solitaire.”

louis groans. “you little fucker. clean that up or you’ll be eating four kings in your breakfast tomorrow.” he kicks some of the cards for added effect towards niall’s bare feet.

“you don’t have the balls, you batty old ponce.” he jumps up from his seat and attempts to leave the room without picking any of the cards up.

louis grabs at niall’s trousers as he tries to slip past him into the kitchen. “not so fast, horan. you rely on me for all of your meals and appointments. i will cease to do this if you don’t help me clean up this fucking trashed flat, and i do not make empty threats.”

niall quirks an eyebrow. “what about the pie, louis, c’mon.”

“i won’t buy you any pie if you don’t at least clean up the cards and do all the dishes.”

niall’s face falls dramatically. “piss off, lou.”

louis shrugs his shoulders. “have it your way.” he walks over to the fridge and purposefully swings it open, takes the pie out with one hand, and walks it halfway to the rubbish before niall jumps him.

louis swears and pushes him off, shoving the pie box into niall’s hands. “there, take it, you tosser.” niall starts walking off with the pie cradled in his arms like a child, so louis trails after him, sighing. “i’m giving you a ten minute pie break and that’s it.”

niall nods impatiently with a spoon hanging out of his mouth indecently. “fine, fine.”

louis stalks out of the kitchen to next work on his bedroom. he wishes they had an extra bedroom that harry could sleep in, but for now he’d have to stay in the living room on the couch. louis doesn’t want to be the one to break it to the kid, but he knows niall sure as hell isn’t going to.

to be honest, louis thought niall would be pissed about harry coming to live with them, but he seemed all for it. when louis had told him, he’d grinned, running a hand through his blond hair. “fantastic, mate. then maybe you won’t knock on my door to ask if liam and i want to go the cinema with you every sodding time he’s blowing me.”

louis shakes that unpleasant mental image out of his head and heads off to first take care of the magazines under his bed that would be most inopportune to be found by harry.

-

louis is completely wrecked with anxiety all morning wondering what time harry is supposed to show up at. he hasn’t been able to contact him and their mum never gave harry a mobile because she didn’t want him making friends in all the wrong places, but louis knows that he’ll need one now if louis ever wants to reach him. it probably wasn’t a problem for the kid stowed away in the mountains, seeing as it was a small school where everyone was in everyone else’s back pocket. the headmaster had assured louis they’d send harry off in a car with a faculty member, though she made it sound as if louis was horribly wasting her time by having to exclude a teacher from their weekend rugby matches.

louis giggles to himself. he doesn’t have many memories of harry, but he does clearly remember when harry was ten and louis had gone with their mother to watch him play a game in the sloshing rain. their mother had forced him into the team and harry had hated it, made that known every night at dinner when he was actually present for dinner.

during that particular game harry had knocked over three guys into puddles just because he was bored of not being able to participate properly because the coach knew he was shit. the guys had moved to jump him, but harry just grinned at them and raced off to the referee, claiming shenanigans.

one of the only nice sit down dinners they’d ever all had together was that one after the game. their mum had taken them out for italian food. harry had mud all over his knees and ass and it spread through the fancy chair cushions and set into the fabric. louis had laughed and caught harry’s eye, not yet as uptight then as a thirteeen year old as he is now as a twenty year old.

all the same, louis was sort of excited to see the kid. it’d been years since they’d spent more than an hour or so together and louis really missed having his family around, small as it may be. he’s been trying to relax all day, reading arthur rimbaud’s poetry translated from french into english on the couch that was recently vacuumed grilled cheese crumb free. but, try as he might, his feet keep moving around without his consent and he practically jumped out of his own skin when niall had blown through the doorway, home from a sleepover with liam. who must not have been angry enough to keep away from him for more than twenty-four hours.

“jesus christ, niall. can’t you announce yourself before you come in?” he’s lost his place in the book he was barely paying attention to before, which is a pity, because it’s rather lovely and descriptive.

niall snorts dismissively. “when’s the last time you announced yourself before barging in my bedroom while i’m fucking-“

“you better not go into this much detail about your sex life with liam when harry gets here,” louis warns.

“i thought you said the kid was a sexual pariah.” niall turns on his heels and heads out into the kitchen, shuffling around already out of his shoes and socks. uncivilized animal.

“i did. sorry.” louis tried to pick his book back up and fails miserably. “it’s just that i think he’s probably a bit more… cultured now being up in the mountains.”

niall comes back into the living room chuckling, one hand carrying the box of pie. “cultured? jesus, lou, i told you those uni courses would prissy you right up. you act like that private school was for, like, polo and chess or something.” he drops down heavily onto the couch and his feet get far too close to louis’ knees as he’s curled up there than he would like.

louis rolls his eyes and swats niall’s feet away. “the word ‘cultured’ isn’t exactly a mouthful.”

“says mister frenchy french.” niall tugs the poetry book out of louis’ hands. he scans over the back, shaking his head. “what’s this rubbish, then?”

louis glares. “it’s a poetry book, you twat. really eloquent shit, unlike your trashy comic books.”

niall throws the book violently into louis’ lap. “dick. those are liam’s.”

“sure, sure.” louis sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. “i hope harry gets here soon so i can stop fidgeting.”

niall nods with his eyes on the huge piece of pie in front of his face, plate so full louis’ terrified the pie will tip right over onto the couch cushions. with a disgustingly full mouth, he says, “what’s he like anyway?”

“i dunno. kind of rude and pissy. you know, the real immature type.” he prods niall’s leg with his foot with a grin. “so you too should get on just brilliantly.”

niall makes his mock laugh obviously fake while he stuffs his face, leaving louis to look on with a grimace. there were some crumbs scattering onto the couch.

“that’s sort of shitty of you; i could have turned into mother teresa while i’ve been gone.” the voice is deep and sarcastic, melodramatic and teasing. louis glances up to niall expectantly, but his mouth is so full it couldn’t have been him who’d spoken. louis whips his head to the doorway, where he finally figures out who it was.

harry was leaning one arm against one side of the doorway with his hip cocked out in a predator’s pose. louis’ eyebrows furrowed. harry looks so much older and so much different. he was tall, maybe six feet tall, and it was dauntingly frustrating to louis already, who got teased relentlessly by niall about his height as it was.

harry’s hair was ridiculously styled - or perhaps ridiculously unstyled. it was huge and overgrown, not curly per say, but knotted into beachy waves and some pieces fell into his eyes or seemed to tunnel themselves into his ears. his arms look pale and big compared to the door frame he hung off of like he had someone to impress in the room. he sort of smirks, eyes on louis. his lips were puffier than louis remembers, though, it was true, he hadn’t ever spent much time looking at them when harry was twelve.

“shit,” niall breathes out almost silently from beside louis. louis glares at him briefly, then turns his attention back to harry. niall is right, though. harry is gorgeous in a show-offy way that probably pulls girls right into his sphere of influence in less than five minutes. he finally enters the room then, pulling the door shut behind him. his shirt is v-necked and black, almost transparent in the light. his jeans are tight on his non-existent hips, his stomach seeming to extend forever.

“good to see you, harry.” louis pulls himself out of the plushy couch by the arm of it, instinctively pulling down his navy sweater because he knows his jeans ride low. his gray-green beanie is loose on him and falling obnoxiously over his ears, so he tucks the sides behind them like a girl would with her hair.

harry smiles at louis briefly, then looks around the room while his tongue licks out across his lips. when his eyes finally land back on louis, he squints.

“i think i forgot what you looked like, because i feel like i’m meeting a stranger.” harry has a duffle bag slung over his back that he decides to put down in the living room as he tensely bites his lip.

louis nods. “yeah, this is a bit weird. you don’t really look seventeen.”

“that’s what all the boys say,” harry quips easily. niall chortles from the couch.

“anyway, how was your flight?” louis asks with artificial interest. he hates small talk with anyone - the junkie cashier girl, the little boy selling the cub scout cookies, the grumpy old man on the bus complaining about his infected foot. but this was ten times worse because he should know how to hold a conversation with his own brother for fuck’s sake. but he can’t. he doesn’t have a clue about what harry’s interests are or what he likes to do.

harry shrugs noncommittally. “long. there was an old lady next to me who kept drooling near me while she was asleep. i tried putting my guitar picks in there without her waking up, but a flight attendant stopped me and threatened to throw me off the plane.”

louis gapes.

harry shrugs again. “it’s not like she could, though. the plane was thousands of feet high, yeah?”

niall impressively nods, finally setting down his pie to introduce himself. “niall, mate, nice to meet you.”

“niall,” harry tries out while sounding curious, “are you dating louis?” he asks in a serious manner.

niall almost swallows his tongue laughing so hard. “no, lad. louis’ so stiff he couldn’t land a bloke if he tried. and anyway, i have a partner and all that stupid shit.”

louis glares. “fuck off, you’re lucky liam tolerates your gas and alcoholism.”

“that’s what he tells me every night when we’re in bed fucking and you’re alone in yours wanking it, innit?” niall pulls of a bitch face quite well for a fag who over-compensated his manliness so much. louis’ almost jealous.

harry cackles loudly, then tries to cover it up with one massive hand. louis doesn’t know where to look until they’re done staring at him and laughing. he momentarily feels too important and decides to direct their attention elsewhere.

“so,” he begins, “who wants dinner?

-

harry eats with a wide mouth and eager expression, though nowhere near as barbaric as niall did, who kept his chin basically right in the plate itself, shoveling food in as if it were going out of business. louis skeptically watches them both, silently hoping that harry’s not going to be getting on with niall to the point where the entire flat will be in shambles.

“how was it up there for so long?” louis asks politely. “the mountains, i mean, at your boarding school.”

harry snorts. “dodgy crowd, really. full of pikey bastards set on destroying the school’s property. and the girls were all barking - total cows with bad teeth and big noses. not that it mattered to all the blokes. minge is minge, innit?” he says it all with a bit of a put-on accent, with eyes on his food, completely casual. niall laughs when he hears the dirty word, but not enough to hinder his eating.

louis stares. “dodgy, really? i thought uniforms were required? and wasn’t there a church on campus?”

harry finally looks up, makes eye contact with louis. “yeah, i’m just being a git. sorry.”

louis sighs. “so how bad was it actually?”

“worse.” harry puts down his fork and leans back in his chair, causing niall to look up in confusion. it must be a lot for him to take in, seeing somebody actually stop eating halfway through a meal. bit heart-wrenching to witness. “everyone there was so fucking stiff, you know? all the teachers were up themselves because they either used to play for professional fucking rugby teams or went to university in america to get degrees. i’m sure that’s because only america would accept them.”

louis scoffs. “they’ve good schools in america.”

“whatever,” harry says. “the worst part was that everyone had all these sorts of expectations for you - what grades you’re supposed to get, what girls you’re supposed to date, even what clubs you’re supposed to get involved in. mum would have loved that.” he shakes his head and goes back to his silverware. niall seems satisfied to call that the end of the conversation and stop being so amazed by the small break, but louis isn’t so fast to disregard that.

“yeah, harry, she would have. she never offered to come up and have a look at-“

“no,” harry quickly interrupts.

louis winces. “that’s weird. she was busy, though, a lot of the-“

“it’s alright, really.” he looks up, lips thin, but eyes kind. “you were always her favorite, anyway.”

it’s quiet for a moment, then louis clears his throat to clear the tension. “dad never tried to speak to me when we were younger.” it’s a peace offering, something to balance out the uncomfortable family situation that they’ve never addressed before. louis wants harry to take the bait, just grin and tell louis he knows he was dad’s favorite. but a smaller part of him doesn’t trust that harry actually will.

“that’s cos mom told him not to,” harry clarifies with dark eyes, averting his gaze back to his plate.

“what do you mean?”

harry shrugs. “nothing. just that she saw me acting out and figured maybe if i spent some quality time with the old man i’d see his life as, you know, something to avoid.”

“but she told you that she didn’t want dad around me?”

“not in so many words. but, think about it. you were wonderful, what would need to be straightened out in you?”

louis grimaces, wanting to say something, but having no idea what would be best. he gets it - harry’s grown up. he’s seventeen and has been through a lot and understands pain and rejection and isolation. but, at the same time, didn’t he long for acceptance still?

“i’m not mum, you know. i loved her and she was a great woman, but i get it. harry, you’re not really a kid anymore. i don’t even know if you ever really were. do you think she figured you didn’t need her anymore?”

harry just shrugs. “it doesn’t bother me, you know. i would have rather -” he stops short, presses his lips together, and closes right up like teenagers do so often. maybe louis was wrong, maybe there’s a small bit of harry who’s still vulnerable and childish.

“what is it?” louis pries, hasn’t had his eyes on his food for the longest time. he doesn’t care about the food. he doesn’t even pay attention to niall, can’t care less if the lad’s uncomfortable.

“i honestly would have rather just had a better relationship with you. not just because i’m living with you now, just in general. it would have been nice.”

louis stares at harry. he’s looking at louis kind of strangely - big eyes like he’s serious and hurt, but he’s also got those thin lips again like he’s embarrassed. when he licks his lips and focuses on his plate again, louis feels like hitting something.

“i’m sorry, harry. i realize it was stupid of me, it’s not like you were really old enough to say what you wanted, but i always had the impression that you couldn’t care less.”

“about who?” harry asks with his eyes on his plate. niall’s staring at him kind of creepily. louis gets the weird urge to yank him away from niall’s side. he supposes it’s a bit late for brotherly protection, though.

“me. and mum, i guess, but mostly me.”

“i didn’t do it on purpose.” harry doesn’t look back up again until they’re all done eating. niall finishes in record time and rushes off to shower as soon as he does, obviously uncomfortable. louis sits and watches harry from the other side of the table, forehead wrinkled. louis’ already unbearably confused one day into this new living arrangement.

-

the funeral is two mornings after that first day. louis gets up at seven in the morning, stumbling around his room in the dark with his shades drawn heavily around, casting shadows on everything until louis only barely avoids waltzing right into the sharp edge of his footboard.

he wears slippers out into the living room, rounding down the hall to first get niall up. he knocks heavily on the door, but doesn’t hear anything. by the time he’s inside and literally yanking him out of bed, niall is so whiny you’d think louis was waterboarding him. niall follows louis out with big, heavy steps. louis stupidly wishes he’d wear socks to lighten the noise. harry’s a heavy sleeper, but niall appears to be trying his very best to awaken the dead with each pounding step.

when niall is out of harm’s way of waking up harry, louis glums over to wake the kid up himself. he’d wait a bit more like he’d originally planned, but he still had no idea how long harry took to shower because he hadn’t yet so long as he’d been there. to his credit, it’d only been two days. louis was a bit jealous - harry’s hair didn’t even look dirty.

louis stands above him, craning his neck over the couch to catch a look at harry sleeping. harry has one arm thrown over his eyes and isn’t wearing a shirt, just one of louis’ best blankets he’d decided to gift his brother.

niall came back to louis then, pushing a cup of coffee into his chest. louis all but spills some down his sleeping shirt. “pity you couldn’t just hand it to me,” he muses angrily.

“whatever,” niall declares, sipping at his own cup. he nods over to harry. “when are you waking him up?” louis doesn’t answer. niall angles his head closer to louis to get his attention. “that’s bloody nice, wake me up before the birds have risen, but you’ll let him sleep all day. twat.”

louis rolls his eyes. “you’ve not right to criticize. you’ve woken me up loads of times before the crack of dawn just to go out and get you and liam coffee and doughnuts.” niall finally admits defeat, heading back into the kitchen to, presumably, find something to eat.

louis looks back to harry, positioning himself over harry again so he could make sure his brother was still fast asleep. he looks to be. the blanket louis had given him was edging further down, though, somewhere at his hips. there are small markings on harry’s chest and stomach like little moles or something. louis frowns, leaning over even more to get closer to them so he could inspect.

just then, harry jerks awake. his eyes fly open, fringe hitting the dip between his eyes. he looks to louis in confusion. “what are you doing?”

“just waking you up, sorry.” louis starts to walk away, but harry grabs lightly at his wrist.

“hold up, what were you staring at?”

louis whips back around, eyes wide. “what do you mean?”

“you were looking at my stomach or something.” harry self-consciously raises the blanket a little so it goes up to his chin.

louis scowls. “i wasn’t. i just thought i saw-“

harry raises an eyebrow.

”- a mole or something.”

harry laughs. “oh. no, those are my other nipples.”

louis spits out a little coffee down his sleeping shirt. “what?”

“no, really, i have four nipples.”

niall rounds them as he passes on his way to the bathroom. snorting, he grins. “need to know basis, kid, please.”

harry laughs, finally rolls out of bed. he stands and bites his lip at louis. “how long until we leave?”

“an hour,” louis says with a curt nod. “i’m making toast if you want some.” he watches harry cross the room, pulling a sweater over his bare chest as he does so, shaking his hair out of his eyes. louis wonders if he was just taking a piss again.

-

harry didn’t end up showering before the service, much to louis’ dismay. however, he wasn’t going to shove him in after only having him there for a couple days. harry wears a black blazer that looks a bit large for him, with the same black v-neck shirt he’d worn his first day. his trousers looked wrinkly, but louis hadn’t wanted to argue enough to question it. maybe harry was too worked up about having to go his mum’s funeral to worry about his clothes. louis could relate.

he wore his long, tan trench coat, buckled around his middle. he knew it was slightly inappropriate to not wear a black jacket, but he didn’t own one. his trousers were black like harry’s, only his had back pockets, which seemed a bit feminine, but louis wasn’t in a place to judge. after all, in the summer liam practically lived with him and niall, and liam was the more obviously gay one who wore pastel colors from time to time with total comfort and ease.

it was chilly, but that was just england. there was no rain, thankfully, but louis had put an umbrella in the back of his car just in case. niall shuffles along behind louis to the grave site. the pastor reads something long and dull that louis doesn’t follow much. then, his aunt who had flown in from the other side of the country reads something more personal about his mum’s pregnancy with louis. he may have gotten a bit choked up, but he hadn’t even cried until he heard her start in about harry. she keeps going on about how much their mum had cooed for harry, calling him sweetheart and darling. as soon as she starts in on harry, though, the kid goes walking off into the other direction.

louis watches, mystified, as harry jogs over to a huge tree. his blazer is left wide open, and harry must be freezing, but he doesn’t move to close it up. he plops himself down into the dirt, reaching inside his blazer for something. louis squints over at him, trying to figure out what he’s holding, until niall prods him gently and jerks his head back to his aunt. the next time louis looks over, there’s smoke all around harry’s head. it’s not obvious, but louis can tell when he squints that harry’s smoking.

he waits until his aunt has finished speaking until he paces over to the tree. it’s trunk is huge and knotted with initials carved into it of lover’s names, and deformed hearts all over stuck inside moss. louis lets himself sit down, crossing his legs as he does. harry is looking to him in confusion, pulling his hand behind his back in a fruitless effort to hide what he’s holding.

“if you’ve got a fag, which i know you do, feel free to share.” louis waits expectantly.

harry chuckles. “i haven’t, though.”

louis scoffs. “if it’s spliff, i wouldn’t be fussed either.” he leans his back heavily into the tree, blowing cold air out of his mouth and watching it mix with the smoke that’s trailing from behind harry’s back.

harry finally gives in, passes the joint to louis. at first, louis winces. “don’t laugh at me, i’m not in the mood,” he warns harry. he does cough a bit, as was expected, but harry keeps his promise and doesn’t laugh.

“you look chilly,” louis mutters as he watches harry wrap his arms around himself from the corner of his eye.

harry nods. “it’s fine; i’m used to it. it’s ten times worse in the fucking mountains.”

“why’d you leave when aunt may started talking about you?” louis takes another drag, trying to catch harry’s eye.

“bugger off about it, okay?” harry requests with an undertone of anger.

louis nods. “take this,” he says as he passes the joint back to his brother. harry immediately brings it up to his mouth, sucks from it like it’s his life support. his eyes go thin and squinted, but he doesn’t look like it’s hurting him any.

“you still cold?” louis asks.

harry shrugs. “a bit better now.” he gestures towards the spliff, a small smile playing across his lips.

“sorted,” louis says, banging his head into the tree trunk. he lets his eyes close up, for once paying no attention to the smell like he normally does when it’s niall and liam fogging up his whole flat.

niall is still over at the grave site, appears he’s trying to chat up louis’ aunt may. louis would be concerned for her well being, but it’s for the best if it allows louis to sit by the tree with harry and smoke without any interruptions. louis turns his head for what feels like a second, wants to keep watching harry to make sure he won’t spontaneously have a fit, and there lies his problem.

his aunt may is standing directly above them quite suddenly, scowling at harry. harry, of course, is still holding the joint. louis’ been staring at harry in profile for the last ten or so minutes, so it’s needless to say he’s surprised to see his aunt may above them. she’s wearing one of those cliche black hats with the veil covering her eyes in tiny little circles. her black jacket is made of faux fur (or at least louis hopes it’s not the fur of some defenseless little rabbit) and she looks gaudy and tacky with her big silver bracelets and black gloves on.

louis figures he should tell harry to dispose of his joint, but he’s too surprised to. he averts his eyes from his aunt’s tasteless clothing choices to look back to harry. harry’s got this little grin playing across his lips, smug, and finding the situation amusing. his eyes are on the dirt below them, but he finally looks up to their aunt long enough to flash her a smile from around his spliff, smoke curling up around his head like a perverted halo.

louis wants to chuckle, but instead elbows harry a little too harshly. harry frowns, then drops it onto the ground. their aunt may opens her mouth to say something, but soon closes it again, and shuffles back off to the rest of their family. louis guesses she doesn’t want to start a fight with them on the day of her sister’s funeral. louis’ thankful, no matter the reason.

as soon as she’s outside of earshot, harry is giggling like a school girl. louis playfully shoves harry again, but the kid’s taken a fair amount more drags than louis has, so he falls right over with ease. he lies there for a minute, just grinning with his hair stuck up in places with dirt. louis shakes his head, stands, and offers his hand to harry.

they walk back towards everyone else with their hands in their pockets, overcast sky creating little shadows of their bodies standing side by side as everyone goes in a single file line to drop flowers on the grave.

-

the day louis drives harry to the closest college near his university campus harry is miserable to be around. he’s grumpy and whiny and keeps raking his hands through his scalp over and over again like he’s searching for the needle in the haystack there.

louis pulls into the parking lot with his fingers tight on the steering wheel, keeping his eyes off of his brother. when he finally turns to gauge the kid’s reaction to seeing the school for the first time, harry doesn’t exactly look thrilled.

“are you coming in or not?” louis asks, affronted. harry shrugs noncommittally and props his feet up on the dash. his hair is looking grubby and his trousers are ripped at his bony knees. louis glares.

“you expect me to sign you up for college for you?” louis asks. harry doesn’t say anything until louis sighs, turning the car off to go inside alone.

“no,” harry starts, “i want to listen to the radio.”

louis raises his eyebrows. “you want me to fork over the keys to my car so you can rock out to katy perry?” he asks in mocking, getting pissy with harry because the kid’s being so difficult.

harry’s face stays neutral. “i was thinking celine dion, but if you insist.”

louis dramatically drops the keys into the driver’s seat as he scoots out of the car. he shuts the door heavily, leaving harry to his thoughts.

the inside of the school is actually not too shabby. it has high ceilings and nice stone walls with some trophies and plaques hung up near the entrance, standard college decoration. he makes his way to the office he assumes he can go to to enroll harry into school. twenty minutes later, upon exiting the office with all of harry’s new papers and schedules, he finds himself livid.

the parking lot space where his car had been is empty. there are clear as day skid marks engraved near the spot as if someone had stolen his car and peeled out in anger. louis nods angrily, pressing his lips firmly together to keep from screaming.

he pulls out his mobile from his pocket, hands shaking. he stares at the screen for an entire five minutes as he tries to work out what his next move should be.

harry hasn’t got a mobile yet. he couldn’t call harry to come back. nor could he call harry to threaten him of an imminent death should he not bring his car back in one piece.

he misses a few numbers dialing niall, jabbing around the numbers too quickly. he starts over twice before he gets it right, fingers still twitching. niall answers by the fourth ring, voice annoyed.

“louis, shit.” niall sighs into the phone. “you bastard, i’m trying to be a good boyfriend and give liam head.”

louis groans out in frustration. “goddammit, niall. one of you two have to come and pick me up from the college ‘round the block from our university.”

“why the fuck are you there?” niall asks.

“i was signing harry up for this semester.” louis paces back and forth with one hand on his hip in his empty parking space, blowing air angrily out of his mouth.

“so why can’t you just drive home? did you blow out a tire?” louis can hear niall shuffling around somewhere on the other end, probably hopping around the room looking for his clothes.

“harry stole the goddamn car.”

“jesus, are you sure?” niall asks. “maybe he was kidnapped.”

louis can hear liam getting worked up over the line, asking niall who was kidnapped? in his designated concerned liam voice. “yes, just get here for fuck’s sakes.”

he thinks he makes out niall muttering, “yeah, after the blow job, prick” before louis hangs up. he snaps the phone shut, still shaking his head.

by the time the two of them show up (three guesses what held them up), liam driving his own car with niall in the passenger seat, louis has calmed down significantly. he jumps into the backseat with clenched fists, but he’s at least alright to sit still now.

liam peers back and forth between the windshield and the rear-view mirror the whole ride back to louis’ flat with nervous eyes, like he’s terrified louis is going to smash a window of the car or something. when niall thinks louis isn’t paying attention, he soothingly strokes liam’s neck for a few seconds to calm him.

louis does notice. it unnerves him even more for some reason he can’t decipher.

-

harry doesn’t get home til ten o’clock that night. he comes home with a wet shirt and wet hair, dripping water onto the floor of the flat. thankfully for harry, niall went back to liam’s for the night, so harry doesn’t have to get yelled at in front of an audience.

“harry, what the fuck?” louis asks angrily. “i don’t understand.”

harry licks his lips, not looking louis in the eye. “i just wanted to get out for a little bit.”

“you can’t just up and take the car out when you want to get fucked up.” louis turns back to the television, which is on mute, but louis doesn’t even register that. “especially if it means you’re leaving me alone with no way back home.”

“i’m sorry.” harry walks over to louis like he’s going to sit down on the couch beside him.

“why are you soaking wet?” louis holds up a hand so that harry doesn’t sit down with his wet clothes.

harry shrugs. “went swimming.”

“in your clothes?” louis asks, confused. “where?”

“i met someone after you left. they knew somebody who had a pool.” harry pulls a pair of sweatpants out of his suitcase, which is still lying and still packed up behind the couch. his eyes sweep over louis’ frame once like he’s waiting for permission to go change. then he gives up and heads off to the loo, trousers dripping water down the hall as he goes.

when he comes out of the loo, he’s only wearing his sweatpants. with bare feet, he sits himself down beside louis. his hair is still wet, fringe looking stringy in front of his eyes.

louis thinks about how harry must have met some girl within five minutes of louis entering the building. he must not have given it any thought at all. some pretty girl had come up to his window, tapped on the glass with one long finger-nailed hand, and asked him to a party. he’d grabbed her by the waist, tugged her over his lap, and peeled out of the parking lot with louis’ car. he hadn’t even given thought to how louis would get home.

“i hope it was worth it.” louis unmutes the television.

“it wasn’t,” harry answers a few minutes later when louis still won’t look at him.


	3. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> louis, in fact, would much rather forget completely his last entire week of unwanted memories. he wishes his concussion were stronger if only to wipe out everything that has happened in the past few days. because unfortunately he has, in a fit of desperation and delirium, managed to warp the context of his and harry’s relationship enough so that in his mind the disgusting things he has done seem without consequence.

louis drives harry to his first few days of school in his own car because harry has no other means of getting there apart from walking and he’s too tired in the morning to work up the energy to. every morning louis shakes harry by the shoulder lightly as he passes into the kitchen to put a kettle on, harry muttering complaints and trying to cover his face when louis pulls all the blinds open in the room. he’s groggy even after tea and toast, pulling on his clothes in the bathroom and coming back out with his eyes still half shut. in the car harry has fallen asleep every morning on the way to college because louis hasn’t the heart to keep him awake for the fifteen minute ride. his chin tucks down into the collar of a bomber jacket as he tries to hide his face to nap, like he’s a toddler who expects that louis won’t be able to see harry if harry can’t see him, and in a second his fringe falls into his eyes and he loses half his face.

however, that friday is the first time harry opts to walk to college. he races around the flat fifty times more awake then he usually does, skidding along the hallway in and out of the bathroom. he spends more time than louis or niall do there lately - whether because he doesn’t have any other place to change not having a bedroom of his own or because he’s spending more time on his appearance. either way, louis ends up needing to attend to his normal bathroom routine before harry has finished with his. before uni he has to run a comb through his hair and brush his teeth, which leads him to knocking several times before harry opens the door to the loo.

harry swings the door open with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, coming dangerously close to sticking louis in the cheek with it before he turns his back on louis to spit into the sink. louis can smell the mint of his own toothpaste a mile away and it suddenly dawns on him that harry must be using his toothpaste every day because nobody bought him his own. louis tries to get his toothbrush wet under the faucet, but as he’s bringing it back to his own mouth, it drips onto harry’s neck. harry has his head ducked into the sink, still spitting. when he feels the water on his neck, he uses one arm to push louis away without even turning to look at him.

louis scowls and pushes harry right back, which is probably one of those cases where a concept is better than the actual execution, because as soon as he pushes harry he sees the fatal flaw in his plan. harry’s foot gets tripped up in the mat in front of the sink and he tries to steady himself by grabbing onto louis’ arm. louis feels harry’s hand digging into his forearm before he even realizes he’s going down fast.

the sound of harry landing on the flat and hard floor is audible, but the more obvious noise comes from harry’s mouth as louis crashes into him soon after. louis hits his head on the sink and yelps, but it’s lost in comparison to harry’s groaning (louis’ ass ends up on his stomach).

by the time niall is rushing into the loo to see what all the commotion is about, louis has a hand coated in fresh blood after rubbing at the back of his head and is visibly wincing, harry still laying flat on the floor with louis on top of him.

niall furrows his eyebrows. his eyes trail from louis’ bloody hand to the floor where both toothbrushes lay. “you two make brushing your teeth as dangerous as a wrestling match, eh?” he laughs before it dawns on him that louis is probably in actual pain. still, he can’t restrain another dig. “christ, even when liam and i decide for a spontaneous shag, we don’t end up bleeding.”

harry sighs heavily, eyes up to the ceiling. he blows air out heavily from his mouth and then brings his hand up to louis’ knee, which is somewhere around harry’s waist. “lou, i can’t help you to the hospital if i’m stuck beneath you.”

niall grins from the doorway. he pulls louis up with both of his hands until louis is leaning his back against the same sink that could have rightfully given him a concussion. “i’ll drive you to the emergency room and i can drop harry off to school after.”

louis gives him a look of disbelief. “no, mate, i’m fine.”

“are you barking?”

harry stands up, straightening out his worn-in gray tee shirt. “you should probably go just to be sure.”

“if i have to take you kicking and screaming, louis-” niall starts with a threatening expression.

louis shakes his head. “it’s just a scratch. head wounds bleed the most anyway, yeah? i feel fine.” he makes for the door. “harry, just let me pull on a jumper and i’ll take you to college.”

harry gives niall a meaningful look that doesn’t go over louis’ head, but niall apparently doesn’t want to end up on louis’ hit list. “i’m going to have liam call you periodically throughout the day to make sure you don’t pass out mid-lecture or something, you stupid git.”

“why can’t you?” louis asks to humor niall, ducking out of the room to find a jumper.

“because i know liam will be more likely to persuade you!” niall calls after him in an angry tone. he claps harry on the back before he exits the loo as well. “mate, you better walk to college. i’m driving him to uni so he doesn’t end up crashing into a fucking tree.”

harry nods, biting his lip as he tries to think of something he can do to get louis to the hospital. in the end there’s nothing niall or harry can do to persuade him.

-

louis’ poetry class is dragging pretty badly by the time he finally realizes there’s something wrong. his head aches in a dull fire and when he touches the spot that had been bleeding, he hisses. there’s a girl louis sees several times a week in class sitting near him who he swears keeps glancing over to him in confusion. unless louis’ vision is becoming affected by the blow to his head, he’s pretty sure she can tell he’s in pain.

half an hour later his eyesight starts to slip up and he spots tiny v’s all around like the kind of birds kids draw in the sky before they advance to a higher level of art class. he feels his body start to tilt sideways of it’s own accord and before he knows it, he’s on the ground. luckily, his head didn’t hit anything, just his ass again, except this time there’s no harry to take the pressure off.

the girl has her hand on his shoulder in an instant, was probably staring him down all class. she’s asking if he’s okay, but her voice is drowned out by his angry professor, who’s sending him to the on campus nurse the next building over. the girl keeps her hand on his arm to make sure he doesn’t slip again as they walk out the door and louis’ thankful for her guidance, although he’s never been so fucking embarrassed in all of his life.

the nurse helps him onto the table because he stumbles a bit getting there. the girl waits out in the hall with a little wave as he goes into the room. after a ten minute checklist is filled out by the nurse, he’s being ordered off campus with a note he’s supposed to give to his regular doctor.

louis is surprised to see the girl still sitting on a bench by the door when he leaves. she’s wearing a dark green jumper and black leggings, hair wild and parted right down the middle. her skin is a little tan for the time of year, not that it’s any of louis’ business whether she feels the need to fake tan or not. he gives her an apologetic departing nod as he’s exiting the room, but she gets up and follows him anyway.

“i’ll see you to your car.” she’s right on his heels, having already made up her mind.

louis mentally groans. “it’s not that bad of a concussion.”

she gapes. “a concussion? you can’t drive!”

it’s not until he’s sitting passenger seat in her sleek bmw before he even remembers that he hadn’t taken his car to uni that morning. why had he forgotten that? he wouldn’t have been able to drive himself home anyway. the nurse had said he might slip up a little on today’s happenings, though, so he hopes it’s just a fluke.

“i’m eleanor, by the way,” the girl says as she drops him off at their apartment complex. she reaches out a hand for louis to shake, which he does as politely as he can.

“louis,” he answers. “sorry for all of this.”

“it was a boring lecture, anyway,” she clarifies with a grin. louis laughs.

-

the lift up to his flat feels longer than usual with his pounding head. he rests his back against the wall of it and presses his lips tightly together until the doors part for him. his hands close around his keys clumsily and he has to try an extra time than normal before he can open the door. considering what he walks in on, louis almost wishes he would have been held up a little longer by the front door.

he makes his way to his bedroom, feet dragging and head aching all the way. his bedroom door is wide open when it’s usually shut during the day when nobody’s home. inside, louis can see why. harry is pinned under another boy on louis’ bed, panting and writhing. the guy above him, holding him down with two big hands, is darker-skinned with thick black hair slicked up like grease. his pants are off, tight white knickers still on, legs tangled with harry’s bare legs.

harry still has his boxers on as well, though he looks very anxious to change that. that is, until he spots louis from behind the other kid’s shoulder. instantly, he freezes up and tries to shove the guy off without much success. it’s not until the bloke finally turns around to look for himself that harry is given the chance to sit up straight and cover his red face with one hand.

in sixty seconds flat the guy is gone, making a run for the front door with his hands wrapped around his jeans instead of first pulling them on. his trainers are still on louis’ bedroom floor while he’s darting out of the flat.

“wow,” louis says. he sighs and pinches at the bridge of his nose. “i can’t even deal with this right now. don’t even bother going back to college today. just get out of this room so i can take a nap.” he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised that harry skipped out on college for a shag, although under the circumstances of whom harry had chosen to shag - well, that was another story.

harry jumps up from louis’ bed and starts to pull on his jeans. “i’m sorry, louis. just - why are you here? are you okay?”

“no,” louis answers truthfully. “minor concussion.”

harry’s face falls. “i’m so sorry, lou. it’s my fault - i pushed you first.”

louis’ shakes his head, shooing harry out of his bedroom with one flippant hand. “i need a fucking nap.”

he shuts the door hard after harry leaves and turns back to the bed, eyebrows knitted. he doubts he’ll ever look at it the same way again. he’s right, although he doesn’t know it then. everything that happens after that day can be traced back to that incident. just then, though, louis pulls the top blanket off of the bed and throws it onto the floor. neither harry or the guy with him had touched another one, and he honestly doesn’t know if he’d be able to rest easy on any blankets that his younger brother had been rolling around in while hard with another person.

it takes him a while to sleep, though he feels exhausted. his head spins due in part to his concussion and in part to this new revelation. new possibilities run through louis’ head like wildfire. did this mean louis hadn’t been ditched by harry in the college parking lot for some skinny-legged bird, but for a muscly bloke? louis lets his thoughts trail off as he gets closer to sleep, then dreams about harry’s eager hips coming up to meet the other boy’s, harry’s eyes squinting shut in pleasure.

he sleeps through until the morning. it’s niall who wakes him up the next day, to ask why he hadn’t gotten up yet. louis only gets halfway through his explanation before niall is ducking out to fetch louis a mug of hot tea and some egg on toast. some of the toast is a bit burnt, but it’s the sentiment that counts. louis smiles at niall and promptly falls back asleep before he’s eaten any of his breakfast.

-

by the doctor’s order louis is to stay at home for a few days to be safe. by the third day, he is able to once again make his own food and walk around the flat without needing to grab onto the walls to keep upright. he avoids harry’s gazes as best he can - still embarrassed to have seen his brother like that, though he thinks harry should be one hundred times more mortified than louis is.

harry’s eyes follow him every night as louis goes from his bedroom to the kitchen to make tea before climbing back into bed and reading through his uni assignments. louis wears the same low-rise sweatpants and thin tee shirt for those three days and convinces himself it’s not a problem that he hasn’t showered at all.

harry sits at the dinner table with niall, him in only a tee shirt and boxers, niall in sweatpants and no shirt. louis takes that as them not caring much for keeping up appearances. they must have been humoring louis for the past couple weeks by eating a formal dinner every night.

harry tries to apologize again during the third night’s dinner which louis actually attends, instead of sleeping through another meal, but louis cuts him off by asking niall why liam hasn’t been around lately. niall can tell something’s off, but doesn’t ask, which louis is extremely grateful for.

sometime during the early morning hours, louis wakes up sweating in bed. his pillows are sweltering, his neck dripping sweat onto it. he tries to flip it over to the cold side, but even his legs are far too hot. he sees that even kicking another blanket off isn’t going to accomplish much, so he crawls half-heartedly out of bed, using his body to roll over on his side until his toes reach the wooden floors.

he decides to get some ice water and maybe sit in the kitchen for a bit until his body cools off, heading slowly out into the hallway with bare feet and only wearing his boxers. however, the noises he hears when he’s almost to the living room stop him dead in his tracks. there’s a quiet but insistent moaning coming low out of someone’s throat in the living room. at first louis thinks it’s just his imagination, but that’s before he can make out small movements from the couch. he prays harry doesn’t have somebody over there in the middle of the night, but when he realizes harry’s alone, he sees how much better it would be for louis if there were.

if there was another living and breathing and moaning person on the couch with harry, louis would have a proper excuse for how fast his heart rate picks up and how quickly his body responds. louis’ face heats up when he can actually tell by the tone of harry’s voice just exactly what harry’s doing. that combined with the movements louis can see in the shadows gives him a basic idea.

harry’s back is arched off the couch, but his hands are nowhere in sight. he hisses suddenly, and louis quickly understands. it would be one thing if harry were jerking off - every guy does that. but the fact of the matter was, louis was a guy who was into guys, and he knows that particular sound very well.

harry isn’t jerking off - he’s fingering himself. louis can’t move, doesn’t dare to dart back into his room too fast for fear of alerting harry. there’s a sharp intake of breath from the couch, almost like harry is in pain, although louis knows from experience the pain subsides for the pleasure faster than one might think.

louis’ fingers twitch like they want to reach out and do something themselves, and that’s what terrifies louis the most. the fact that harry was alone gave louis no reprieve - he has no way of denying anything. he wasn’t listening to harry’s little breathy gasps and thinking of that hot guy he’d let fuck him last summer - or the girls he’d let blow him when he was still in college. no, he knew exactly who was on the other side of that couch, and the fact that it was harry wasn’t appearing to bother louis at all.

the fact that it was louis’ kid brother, seventeen years old and volatile, taking big gulps of air as his fingers worked farther inside himself, was not appearing to bother louis’ hard on at all.

louis finally gets his feet unstuck from the quicksand floor and tip-toes back down the hall. once he’s shut his bedroom door and lets his back rest upon it, he brings one trembling hand up to cover his mouth in anxiety.

he gave himself thirty seconds to try and calm down before he completely gives up, light-headed from all the sleep he’d been getting and all of the food he’d been neglecting. he brings himself over the edge with one hot hand in his boxers, biting down on his lip to keep quiet so hard he tastes blood.

his bed feels all the more warm getting back into it the second time. his hand is sticky and his legs feel super-glued together, but he doesn’t dare move from his bedroom again. harry’s noises echo in his head over and over again like a stuttering, scratched cd until louis finally dozes off with his skin feeling hot and tight.

-

over the next few days louis is able to avoid harry quite easily, thanks to him going back to uni and harry having school every day. he still hasn’t punished harry for the incident with the other kid in louis’ bed, but with a week already gone since then it feels pointless to try and bring about some kind of penance now.

louis, in fact, would much rather forget completely his last entire week of unwanted memories. he wishes his concussion were stronger if only to wipe out everything that has happened in the past few days. because unfortunately he has, in a fit of desperation and delirium, managed to warp the context of his and harry’s relationship enough so that in his mind the disgusting things he has done seem without consequence.

now he needs to correct how he thinks of harry without ever slipping up ever again, no matter the initial intention. even with all the best intentions, things are looking down. perhaps the worst part of all of it is that instead of going all out and imagining harry to be just another good-looking young guy, louis had justified it in his feverish state by reminding himself that he had never been very close to harry to begin with.

as if it matters how close he was harry as a kid. as if not holding conversations or having bonding time with harry when louis was younger automatically gave him permission to pervert a brotherly relationship so much.

wasn’t that some freudian complex or another? something about not being attracted to family members because of constant contact beginning at a young age? louis doesn’t know for sure, but it sounds just about right. he hasn’t ever had the normal kind of brotherly relationship with harry that keeps siblings in that playful kind of arm’s reach way have where you can depend on them even though you might not get along with each other very well. 

as a kid, harry had trust issues for some reason, and louis was always too busy to talk. whether harry’s issues can be attributed to their lackluster father figure or not, it wasn’t as if louis had been there for him, present only in the strictest, most physical way. never emotionally present. 

louis had never hugged harry growing up, never gone fishing with him or taught him how to drive, never anything that most brothers did for each other. what did most brothers do for each other?

louis has never been so guilty in his life, but there’s nothing he can do to erase what he’s already done and how he’s already begun to think of harry. so, that’s it. there’s nothing to it - all he can do now is hope it can be rectified before he does something else more horrible.

-

one morning louis’ sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea and reading the newspaper with niall beside him rubbing his eyes defeatedly and trying to keep his head up to no avail. he and liam had had a long night out the day before at a local pub. although liam didn’t much care for drinking, he did love partying as much as the next man. and liam was known for his pool hustling skills, often times pretending to be a shit pool player and setting up an unfair advantage for his and niall’s game against two punk teenagers with fake id’s.

harry waltzes in that morning without needing to be woken up for once, hair ruffled and over-sized sweatpants indecently hanging off of his hips. he grins at niall’s typically hungover presence, but niall isn’t present enough in that dimension to acknowledge it. harry stills at the kitchen counter as he pours himself a cuppa, face drawn.

when he reaches up in the shelves to pick out a mug, his sweatpants drop a little and all of a sudden louis catches a flash of something black sitting very, very low on harry’s hips. in a second it’s gone like it was all louis’ imagination, disappearing along with harry’s big hand coming up to lift the waistband back up a few inches.

louis averts his eyes and hopes it doesn’t feel as tense in the room to niall and harry as it does to louis. averting his eyes has felt like the only thing louis does lately. when he’s not keeping his chin tucked into his chest to ward off harry’s dimples from his sight, he’s turning his back on his brother to do something else, too busy for casual conversation even. he supposes pretty soon it’s going to become painfully obvious that louis is avoiding even keeping eye contact with harry, but for now he’s perfectly content in turning on his heels when he sees harry enter a room or making up an excuse to leave just as quickly - time to brush his teeth in the middle of the day on a saturday, time to vacuum the whole flat at midnight on a school night.

niall has been keeping a closer eye on louis than he’s ever bothered to before because of the concussion, so louis tries to act pleasant while they’re all couped up together at the kitchen table as they were right then. harry sits down across from louis and eyes him up and down suspiciously. then, he asks louis to pass him the jam that louis’ holding onto for dear life.

louis’ hand catches on harry’s wrist as he pushes it over to harry just as harry’s given up on waiting for louis and has started to take matters into his own hands. louis retracts his hand in one rattlesnake-like motion, so fast he’s hit niall’s arm on it’s way back to louis’ side. harry stares at him like he’s disappointed about something and niall is glowering at louis like he’s just done something very offensive and hurtful.

louis scoffs, gets up without touching his breakfast, and pats niall on the arm in a friendly disposition before he sets off for his bedroom, the only place left in the flat that still feels like a retreat away from harry, even after catching harry going at it with that older guy the week before.

louis drives harry to school all week without them exchanging more than a few words, louis trying to muster up the courage day after day to ask harry what’s on his hip, but never quite working up enough of it.

he feels like a pariah - too close to harry by blood to rightfully stop trying to connect with him, but too far away mentally to push himself into being harry’s friend before he has to be his brother. louis can’t let himself want to be anything but harry’s brother or everything surrounding him will come crumbling down fast - there’s already a nagging feeling in the pit of louis’ stomach like there’s something harry’s not saying that will echo even further why everything is so fragile here.

-

friday night and louis’ feeling itchy and anxious because niall’s out at liam’s place again, having a grand old time while louis has to sit around their flat with harry and try not to do or say anything stupid. he’s secretly terrified that harry knows louis walked in on him the other night on the couch, but he’ll play dumb about it for the rest of his entire life concerning this or any other possible future uncomfortable situation.

harry has been a recluse just like louis lately and louis wonders why that is. after harry had stolen the car and went off swimming with complete strangers he hasn’t left the flat again at all apart from school. at least, that’s what louis knows to be true. harry sits on the same couch every night that he later sleeps on just watching the telly and occasionally playing poker with niall or trying to decipher the meaning behind a few of louis’ poetry books.

at first it was rather hilarious seeing his immature and temperamental younger brother sticking his nose into louis’ ee cummings books, but then he quickly became a nuisance to have around. his nonstop excitable nature tended to get louis worked up and frustrated.

harry would be sitting next to louis on the couch just staring daggers at louis through the spine of his tattered copy of lolita while louis politely declined to acknowledge it.

sometimes he would come right out and ask questions - what the book was about, what the main character was like, why louis liked it. of course him answering those questions about lolita wasn’t the best time. it wasn’t as if louis really wanted to say to harry well, shit, i suppose i love it so much because it’s just utterly fascinating how well humbert humbert seems to stay so noble and likable throughout his acts of perversion upon a young and elusive girl.

most of the time he would fall asleep with a frown isolating his mouth from the rest of his face - eyes always seeming perked up even in sleep, although his lips curved down in some kind of unconscious unhappiness or unfulfilled desire.

louis declines to spend much time wondering just what might be eating at harry because he has a sneaking suspicious it’s just harry being a teenager and wanting to spend time alone with other teenagers to do vaguely filthy things. and spending time thinking of harry doing anything of that nature led to nowhere productive.

when harry wakes up and catches louis with his nose outside of his book and having spent the last half an hour with prying eyes on harry’s immobile body, well, it feels like louis is failing terribly at not making things uncomfortable between the two of them.

harry seems to wait and wait for louis to say something, but he never does. he buries his nose in his book and his head in the sand while harry sighs and crosses his arms childishly over his chest.

-

the black mark on harry’s lower hip is a tattoo. louis listens in on harry and niall talking one evening from his bedroom. niall has given harry a drink, but louis neglects to do anything about it, because if he did that would mean he wouldn’t get to hear harry’s personal stories to niall and supposedly niall alone. louis feels guilt sweep through him listening into what isn’t his business, but it’s not like harry is going to be confiding in louis anytime soon.

harry laughs when niall explains the story of his first tattoo - too drunk to remember the morning after how it’d even happened. he’d gone with a few friends from college when he wasn’t yet of age, but somehow never really regretted it. liam teases him about it all the time - louis understands. a lot of guys have four leaf clover tattoos if they have irish heritage, so it seems sort of comically stereotypical.

louis was jealous of how well harry seemed to get on with niall. harry laughs loudly and openly sometimes, so trusting louis almost forgets how messed up harry has always been. that night louis wants so badly to walk out into the living room and join them for a drink, but he knows his presence is unwanted and would, if anything, be detrimental to harry opening up to someone. even if that someone isn’t louis, louis should be happy for harry that he’s building up trust.

louis tries his best not to pair up imaginary matching actions to each set of words that exit either of their mouths. when niall asks giddily what tattoo harry has, louis tries not to picture niall poking at harry’s side to make him giggle. he fails.

the tattoo on the very lowest point of harry’s hip is an anchor. louis guesses now that when harry had gotten worked up over louis looking at his stomach he must have figured louis had noticed it, although he hadn’t. naill presses harry on it, but harry doesn’t elaborate. it makes louis uneasy to wonder why harry doesn’t want to discuss it, but he can’t exactly ask for himself, can he?

-

louis sees harry actually doing homework of some sort the next night. he’s looking frustrated and tired, teeth catching his lower lip and eyebrows drawn. he’s sitting cross-legged and in his pajama trousers and a thin tee shirt again.

louis sits himself at a reasonable distance from harry on the couch. “do my eyes deceive me or are you actually studying?” louis asks, playing with the glasses perched low on his nose.

harry snorts, looking up from the book on his lap at last. “loser.”

“you’re the one doing work. who’s to say i wasn’t just about to go do something totally wild and reckless and irresponsible?” louis seems to beg and beg himself not to say something he’ll later regret, anything that could be twisted into an invitation of any kind at all, but things just keep slipping out.

harry chuckles. “yes, that’s likely.” he pushes the book very suddenly out of his lap. it lands with an audible bang on the floor. louis gapes.

“that’s practically defiling a book.”

“to you, maybe. but to me, that’s not a book; it’s a ticking time bomb.”

louis sighs. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“it means if i don’t go out and have some excitement soon i’m apt to kill myself.” louis knows before he says it he’s in for trouble, but for some reason he continues anyway.

“i could make you a bargain.” louis folds his hands in his lap as he expectantly waits. harry raises his eyebrows.

“what sort of bargain?”

“get a good grade on whatever you’re studying for and we’ll go out.”

harry grins. “we?”

“niall and liam as well. we’ll make a night of it.”

“honestly?” harry asks, clearly in disbelief. “you’ll let me drink?”

“if you can keep your side of the bargain.” louis stands up, licking over his lips in thought. “anyway, i’m off to bed.”

“wait,” harry says, holding up a hand to stop louis. “tutor me.”

louis jerks his head back in surprise. “i don’t even know what subject your test is on.” it’s a shameful excuse, only fit for such a shameful suggestion to begin with.

“but you’re absurdly smart, aren’t you? niall said you’re an intellectual.” harry seems to be sweet-talking him.

“did he really?” louis inquires.

“no,” harry says, smiling sweetly.

louis nods. “why am i not surprised?” he turns around and makes for his bedroom. “i’ll tutor you if you play nice.”

harry tilts his head around so that when louis turns to close his bedroom door as he stands in the doorway he can make out harry’s cheeky grin. and then louis really has to wonder about what he’s just gotten himself into.


	4. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “nothing, it’s just we’re a pretty talented family, yeah?”
> 
> at first harry feels like he could puke. he can’t decide if he hates the statement more because it hints that they’re anything like either of their parents or because louis is declaring he now feels like harry is actually his brother. 
> 
> louis apparently doesn’t notice harry’s meltdown. or, if he does, he continues without acknowledging it. “i write completely amazing poetry, you are supposedly some sort of musical prodigy, and niall is a champion bar fight brawler.” he laughs as he sips his hot cocoa and, just like that, harry wants to hug louis and never let go. 
> 
> so he does.

zayn wears the same clothes every single day and harry knows he doesn’t wash them much. he learns right away that zayn’s dad works in a mechanic shop and not much later than that about zayn’s financial situation. he probably owns ten of the exact same white tank tops and greases his hair right back until he looks like an extra in an actual grease lightning number. harry watches him as they cross paths in the hall and tries very, very hard to be attracted to zayn, and most of the time he is. 

most of the time zayn reminds harry of the kind of guys harry went for last year, the kind who owned motorcycles and were a bit older than him, maybe had a slightly off-kilter way of smiling to tell you that, yeah, they’d done some criminal shit before - but they were working on it. 

zayn purposefully strides everywhere he goes - big swagger from a guy that most people shit all over on a daily basis. it was quite funny to harry when there’d be some asshole jock in his uniform teasing zayn, poking and pulling at zayn’s leather jacket and sweaty tank top, only to get a fistful of punishment. 

still, zayn’s bad boy image was a bit exaggerated and harry has seen it all before - seen drug deals in broad daylight and tattoos done at home with dirty needles, you name it. harry stuck by zayn because he knew the type, and therefore, how to tame that type. all zayn needed to calm down was a bit of coaxing with some spliff in harry’s pocket stuck out teasingly and the next thing you knew he was falling fast asleep with an open jaw, looking like a teddy bear. 

zayn’s stubble was attractive, his shiny hair slicked backwards was attractive, even his dirty clothes were attractive to an extent - but for some reason when harry pulled all of these elements into consideration together it was a whole different story. 

harry spends lunch period in zayn’s car with him smoking and skips gym to make out with him in the guys’ locker room. in zayn’s car he’d stare at zayn smoking and want to find zayn’s lips curled around a joint stimulating, but didn’t. in the locker room with zayn’s leg stuck in-between harry’s parted legs he’d accidentally imagine zayn’s sweat and pot smell like his brother’s smell of caffeine and books and choke up - shove zayn off and want to knock his own head into the nearest locker. 

then, he’d go home and be greeted by louis’ persistent offers of tea to calm him down and he’d guzzle it down as fast as he could without seeming impolite. louis was far too accommodating sometimes and it honestly drained harry having to keep quiet and pretend he was alright with having louis around him all the time just sitting there staring with his skin looking warm under a big white sweater and eyes piercing until he realized harry was looking right back. 

harry has never felt so much tension before with another human being, not even back with nick when they were still dancing around the idea of them. harry gets a flash in his head of nick shoving harry onto his desk and crawling on top of him like a spider before the picture turns to louis straddling harry’s lap and whispering some shit french poem into his ear and suddenly harry is getting up from the kitchen table so fast he almost knocks it over. 

he tries to spend most of his time not in school hanging out with zayn at his dad’s motor shop, but it grows tiring having to constantly put up with zayn’s bi-polar behavior and he realizes he should make new friends.

but then zayn quits his childish pouting and stops kicking things over in anger in favor of pulling harry by his waist into the disgusting shop bathroom with the sticker toilet and puddles of water around the sink and harry admits that this does a pretty good job of taking his mind off of louis. 

-

harry gets home late that night - maybe nine o’clock - and normally louis would be pissed at him for it, but he’s not home. harry finds niall in the living room pulling back a glass beer bottle and staring down into his lap. harry cranes his neck from behind and sees that he’s got comic books there in a little stack. he snickers to himself.

niall whips around fast. “you little fucker,” he mutters. “how long have you been there?”

“only a minute.” harry squeezes between the chair niall is in and the couch so he can throw himself down into it. “where’s louis?” he tries to ask without betraying his own pride, but clearly he hasn’t done a very great job at that. 

niall snorts. “i won’t tell him you’ve missed curfew if you share some spliff.” he expectantly brings his eyes down to harry’s trousers and back up again just as fast with a mocking wink. 

harry chuckles and tosses him the baggie. “feel free to use the rest. i’ve already smoked today. if i have any more i won’t be able to sleep right.”

niall gets right to rolling the papers while harry waits for niall to explain where louis is, though he seems to be taking his sweet time. “lou actually went out and found himself a proper bird to screw, it would appear.” he licks the paper so it stays glued together. “she’s a right looker too. not that i’d shag her because - well.” he snorts again. 

harry freezes up, waiting for more details. niall looks up to him and suddenly loses track of their conversation. “where do you keep getting so much spliff anyway?”

“i’ll give you a number if you give me a little more information,” harry offers with a pretend smile, wants to make it out like he’s interested in louis’ love life because of some bullshit brotherly bond that isn’t there. 

niall doesn’t notice, now taking a break from the joint to give his beer some attention. “that’s rich. well, her name begins with an e. emily, eleanor, i dunno.” harry waits impatiently, hand wrapped tight around his knees as he pulls them up into his chest. “they went out for dinner, but that was around six or so. i expect louis to trapse in tomorrow morning looking bloody embarrassed.”

“why?” harry asks darkly. he looks down and fusses with his hands again. 

niall shrugs. “he doesn’t normally hook up, you know? mostly he sits inside doing his pseudo hipster shit - reading french essays, whatever.” 

“he’s never been in a relationship?” harry throws it out like he’s barely interested, just trying to make conversation. in reality he’s sweating it out, hoping every question he asks to egg niall on isn’t coming across as too strange or prying. 

“he was with a bloke a couple years ago. this guy named stan. he was alright, i guess.” niall swallows another gulp of beer. “bit campy, not that i should be talking. every halloween liam dresses up as a different hollywood actress.” he smiles around the joint, then looks to harry. “how about the girl you’re seeing, eh?”

harry’s eyes widen. “what do you mean?”

“well, you’re out every day shagging someone, mate. question is: who.” he smiles and then drops it a second later, playing the cocky bastard card. 

“not a girl. name’s zayn. bit of an idiot.” he waits for niall to be surprised, but he never is. 

“no worries. that’s what liam calls me when people ask him who he’s with.” he doesn’t seem like he’s looking for pity, though, so harry laughs along with him easily enough and tries to change the subject before niall wants to linger too long on zayn. 

harry doesn’t know much why he bothers fucking around with zayn. he guesses it’s half because it’s familiar territory and harry knows what to expect and half because anything really to take his mind off of his brother is time well spent.

-

the next morning is a saturday, but louis still comes slugging in like he’s just cheated on his wife of ten years on a school night and the kids will find out if he throws open the door just a tad too loudly. 

harry’s already up and watching some movie on the television about these kids who’ve just discovered aliens in their town with cameras that are too expensive to realistically be their’s. he hears louis only because when he goes to hang up his trench coat by the door he misses and it ends up on the floor, swishing down like a paper airplane. 

“wanna watch a movie?” harry offers. louis jumps, like he hadn’t even see harry there. when he relaxes, he licks his lips and nods. when louis sits down still in yesterday’s navy sweater and tan trousers harry wants to lean in to see if he can smell perfume, shampoo, anything that could let harry know that niall had been right. but he feels too disgusted with himself to and shoves his hands under his ass to physically keep himself from reaching over and untucking the bit of louis’ sweater that is stuck inside his trousers. 

louis catches harry off guard half an hour later when he playfully jabs harry in the side and asks him about his test. 

“when is it?” louis asks expectantly. 

harry bites his lip as he tries to remember. “um, next tuesday.”

“right,” louis says. “well, what subject is it on again?”

“history,” harry clarifies. he watches louis turn back to face the television and pinches himself on the arm before he does something incredibly thick - like getting louis’ attention back on him by pulling him into his lap. 

harry’s never been so keen on anyone before and he’s had his fair share on stupid shit - crushes, being attracted to people - but never so bad that being around them made him sick to his stomach. “it’s on the age of enlightenment.”

louis suddenly turns back to him, nodding. “oh, yeah. so, voltaire, john locke? that kind of thing?”

“‘yeah, how’d you know?”

louis laughs. “i’m majoring in history and psychology, harry.”

“oh, right.” harry stares at louis’ teeth for so long while he’s laughing that he can’t help but let his mind sort of run with ideas. 

“so i suppose while you’re tutoring me you’ll get really angry and be one of those teachers that, like, yells at you if you say eighteen twenty-one instead of eighteen twelve, yeah?” harry brings up his legs and crosses them, then tries to distangle them when he realizes it puts his knee in direct proximity with louis’ leg. 

louis’ face splits out in concern. “harry, you do know that the age of enlightenment was during the seventeen-hundreds, right?” his hand lands on harry’s knee and harry flinches so hard it knocks louis’ hand right off. 

“oh, yeah. i was just giving an example.” louis is still looking at him with disbelief. “i did!” harry insists, grinning.

“fine, fine. i hope so or i can’t imagine you’ll be coming out for drinks with the boys and i.” he smiles brightly, but turns his head so it’s less obvious. harry slaps louis’ knee before he can hold himself back. 

“is that a threat or something?” he asks in disbelief.

“no,” louis says straight-faced. “it’s a tool to get you to work hard.”

“alright, yeah. it’s definitely worth it.”

“yeah?” louis asks, looking over to him strangely. “you want to meet liam that badly?”

harry laughs. “no, i just - i figured you’re probably a bit more fun when you’re drunk is all.” he tries to keep a smile from overtaking his face, but he knows it’s fruitless.

“twat.” louis shakes his head back and forth. “i’m a sappy drunk, actually. i just go on and on about stupid shit that’s happened until someone shuts me up.”

“what, like funny stories?” harry asks with genuine curiosity. 

“yeah, but once you’ve heard the story behind niall and liam’s first time you’ll never want to be around me when i’m drunk ever again, i promise.” he grins and then snaps the television off. “anyway, why don’t you get out your notes and i’ll make some hot cocoa.”

“are you tutoring me right now?” harry asks making a face. “that’s no fun.”

“are you kidding?” louis asks seriously. “voltaire is the most fascinating guy of that entire century. you’re batty.” he gets up and wanders off into the kitchen. harry wants to sneak up behind him and crowd him until louis has nowhere to go but into harry’s chest. he squeezes his eyes together tightly as he’s gotten the image of louis looking up at him with surprise and excitement before wrapping his legs around harry and using his teeth to-

“harry, can you go to my bedroom and see if there’s a book in my bookcase called something like ‘europe though the ages’, i’ll be ‘round in a minute with the cocoa,” louis calls from the kitchen. 

harry immediately walks down the hall and into louis’ bedroom with his eyes to the floor, all the while internally cursing himself. when he finds the book louis’ asked for and pulled it off of the shelf he finds himself admiring louis’ bed. his comforter looks obscenely warm and puffy, bright white against the navy and white plaid of a blanket at the foot of the bed. by the time louis gets back harry has slunk himself down onto the bed and has already sniffed the pillows guiltily before louis arrives.

-

the next time the girl louis is seeing is brought up it’s the next night when she shows up at the door when harry answers. she’s quite thin - legs like chopsticks and feet stuck in black suede boots. her skirt is tight and black and her shirt is flimsy white - almost see-through. she smiles from behind a large mass of wavy chestnut hair and harry wants to die. 

there’s no way, absolutely no way in hell he’s jealous of some random girl just because she’s maybe sleeping with his brother. 

“hi, you must be harry.” she sticks out her hand charasmatically. “louis said his other flat mate was a drunk blond and you don’t look blond or drunk.”

“not just this moment, no,” harry quips. “come in.” he turns his back on her without shaking her hand and heads for the kitchen, leaving the door wide open for her. he wonders why louis had told the girl he was a flat mate of louis’, no closer to louis than niall was. he shrugs off the disappointment and tries not to feel like a brat for not alerting louis that his date was here. he could figure it out on his own.

after a few minutes he sees louis coming out of the hall from his bedroom wearing a maroon jumper and black trousers. he’s carrying his wallet and laughs when he sees her, although she hasn’t made any witty jokes so far as harry can tell from across the flat. 

“how did you get in?” he asks smiling. he leans over and kisses her cheek. she beams all the while. harry stands stupidly at the kitchen counter pretending to make tea and prays that the girl doesn’t rat him out.

“your flat mate,” she says simply. “you ready to go? i heard the garlic bread is amazing.” 

“sounds great.” he shoots harry a little wave on his way out before grabbing his trench coat on his way out the door. 

it takes harry maybe thirty seconds to decide between meeting up with zayn to get into a little trouble and sitting there to pull his hair out all night. 

-

zayn picks him up twenty minutes later and they head out to a liquor store to pick up booze for somebody’s house party. ideally harry would supply the money for vodka, but he’s recently spent all of his cash on spliff, so zayn buys two bottles with a fake id and money that’s presumably stolen from his father.

harry keeps thinking about his childhood, little things from his past that come back suddenly and randomly whenever he’s doing anything criminal. he hears a song playing in the liquor store that reminds him of when his dad would take him out to a bar when he was maybe eight and sit him down at a pin ball machine while he tried to land a girl ten years younger than himself. harry has known the song forever, but for some reason this time it just sets him off differently than it has before. 

he gets a flash in his head of his dad sneaking off into the ladies’ room with a woman who looked to be a cheap chain-smoker with fake nails and track marks and he almost drops the pack of fags he’s holding for zayn. 

zayn’s eyebrows shoot up. he snatches the fags quickly from harry’s grip and throws them onto the counter before he pays. as they walk out, zayn gently elbows harry and gives him a look. “hey, you’re not on anything crazy, right? you looked a little lost back there.”

“nah,” harry says. “i don’t use.” 

“good.” zayn leads him back to the car, throwing one big arm around harry’s shoulders and smelling faintly of sweat even though he must be freezing only wearing a tank top out at night. “because i had a friend a couple years back, great guy, but he got himself into some shit and-“

“yeah, yeah,” harry interrupts. he doesn’t want to hear this talk because he’s already gotten it about twenty times before from people of all ages and backgrounds who always seem to think they have more worldly experience than harry must have. “me too.” it’s a lie, but it shuts zayn right up, probably makes zayn think harry doesn’t want to talk about it because it would bring up bad memories. zayn clutches on harry’s shoulder a little more tightly like he’s acknowledging the shit he thinks harry has weighing him down. 

in reality harry’s thinking about louis touching his girlfriend’s smooth legs under the table of some cutesy italian restaurant and more than anything he wants to shake zayn off of him, but he doesn’t. 

-

the house party they end up at is at some girl’s place while her parents are away on holiday. harry is clapped on the back by three guys he’s never seen before in his life coming in the door and before he’s even made it to the kitchen, following zayn as he appears to know where he’s going, he has two blonde girls trailing behind him with their push-up bras showing above their halter tops. he shakes them off easily in the crowd without making waves and ends up helping zayn make the guest of honor a round of shots for her and her ten closest friends. 

the girl is blonde and pretty, has huge fake eyelashes and wears a feather in her hair while she gulps back two shots in a row without flinching. zayn introduces harry to her amongst the noise the stereo makes in the next room and harry misses her name entirely, but she looks happy enough to see him. 

under normal circumstances, the kind where harry would actually care whether or not the guy he was currently sleeping with was still sleeping with someone else, he might ask zayn if he was or is involved with this girl. but instead, he laughs as he watches zayn take the second vodka bottle and just tips that back himself. when zayn kisses him on the mouth harry tastes the sting of it and sort of feels thankful for it. the girls around them in the kitchen all cheer and two even pull themselves into each other to kiss, as if harry and zayn were making out to turn girls on. 

harry actually wants to laugh at them, utterly unresponsive at the sight of two girls kissing each other in front of him, but he’s too immersed with the body shot zayn is offering to do off of harry. an hour later harry feels zayn push him into a wall in a dark corner of some hallway and before he knows it he has a hot mouth on his dick and he’s not thinking too much about louis anymore because he’s not thinking about anything at all. 

-

the next morning harry is awoken by the sound of niall eating something very crispy. he, quite honestly, does not remember at all getting home. yet, when he hears louis’ voice ring through his head while his eyes are still shut, he feels content enough not to care. 

“how was your date last night?” niall asks, chewing away. harry inclines his head over the arm of the couch to listen into the conversation. 

“good.” louis seems to take a second too long to answer. 

“was it?” niall asks again cheekily. 

“well, yeah. i mean, she’s a bit too forward for a second date.” harry wishes he could see louis’ face himself while he’s speaking. 

“what do you mean? did she try to give you a hand job under the table at - what was that place called? sergio’s or something, innit?” 

“no!” louis scoffs. ”it’s not even like that. i think maybe i should stop seeing her, though. maybe.” 

“louis, if she tried to go down on you the second date, you should be happy.”

“how the fuck did you know that?” louis asks in amazement. 

niall snorts. “i didn’t.”

“tosser.” harry hears a plate clink onto the table, so he presumes that louis has gotten something to eat as well. 

“look, i’m a man’s man. you know, not just in the way that i’m into dick - in the way that i watch football and drink beer and tell dirty jokes.” 

“yeah, so?” louis asks, unimpressed.

“so, arsehole,” niall continues, “i know that when you’re offered sex you’re supposed to, as a man, comply. because why the fuck wouldn’t you?”

louis takes literally minutes to reply. then, he sighs heavily. “mate, i don’t think i’m into girls anymore.”

“no shit.” niall bites into something crispy again. “you don’t fucking say.” 

“you’re a right shithead, did you know?”

“i’ve been told so a few times, yeah.”

harry grins as he dozes back off to sleep, feeling a little too happy perhaps that this girl no longer has a shot with louis. 

the next time he wakes up he realizes he’s been dreaming about louis in bed tossing and turning like he can’t get to sleep, until harry’s come in and curled himself around louis. in the dream louis feels so real, so warm near harry and happy to see him and feel his body behind his own that when harry wakes up and loses the feel of louis’ back pressed into his chest, he almost wants to cry. 

all his life he’s spent wanting to just talk to louis, just tell him about all the times he wanted desperately to ask louis to teach him things, but couldn’t. he wants to run to louis and tell him that he’s so lucky their mum loved him so much, that he never got dragged into dirty old pubs crawling with sixty year old men with gray beards and gang tattoos. he wants to slide louis’ glasses on for him and ask him why he never tried to spend time with him when they were younger. then, his fantasies go darker and he wants louis above him shaking and grabbing at harry’s shoulders, biting his lip and panting. 

harry feels his eyes brimming up, so he pulls the covers over his head and wishes, imagines it like it’s true, that he could redo everything. he wants to be ten years old again and do normal brotherly things, wants to camp out with louis in the living room under sheets and tell ghost stories that would never, ever reflect the lives they’re leading now. 

-

monday night is the night before harry’s history exam and he’s really nervous because all he wants is a nice warm fucking drink, but if he doesn’t do really well, he wouldn’t get one. well, he could always just go out with zayn and get sloshed, but he wants to get properly sloshed with louis and see if he loosens up when he’s drunk. 

part of him knows that when he’s drinking he’s more prone to doing really stupid things, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t going to jump louis in the middle of a crowded pub or anything. 

or at least he hopes not. 

“where’s your head, haz, c’mon.” harry gets pulled out of his thoughts by louis, who’s throwing so many questions at him he’s literally going insane. 

“what do you think it’s on?” harry asks sourly. “it’s on mozart and frederick the great and adam smith and so many other things that i can’t think straight!”

louis scowls at him. “please, harry, i’ve practically studied for twenty-four straight hours before. you’re not impressing me.” he slides the frames of his glasses back up his nose, as they’ve yet again slid down. 

“please, can we just have a break for hot cocoa?” harry begs. “i’ll do anything, i’ll alphabetically categorize your collection of indie records by fucking year.” 

“why don’t you categorize these german rulers by year instead?” louis asks and tosses harry a pile of flashcards. harry groans.

“no, please.” he waits for louis’ hard expression to change, but it doesn’t. “lou, please.”

louis’ expression finally softens. “alright, yeah. let’s get cocoa and then you can tell me what music you listen to would allow you to insult my flawless collection of records.”

harry jumps up from the bed so quickly the flashcards literally fly out around the room, landing all over the place, sporting the names of dozens of french, german, and british philosophers and rulers. “oh, fuck. i’m sorry.” 

louis sighs heavily. “i don’t care. i love history, i really do, but if we can’t change the subject for just ten minutes i’m going to combust.”

harry grins. “fantastic.” he follows louis out into the kitchen. “so, hey, can you play any of the stuff you have here?”

louis whips around, confused. “what, on guitar?” harry nods. “no,” he laughs. “i’m musically challenged, afraid to say.” 

“what exactly does that mean?”

“it means i admire musicians so much because they have an affinity for something that i could never have.” louis turns his back on harry to get milk from the refrigerator. harry watches him and has trouble controlling what exactly spews out of his mouth. 

“you know, i can play.” 

“girls, maybe.” louis chuckles. 

“no, really,” harry persists. “i can play guitar. i could teach you how to play something on one of those records if i could borrow someone’s guitar.”

louis turns around, bewildered. “um, liam has a guitar. i could ask him to bring it over next time he’s here.” 

“thanks.” harry takes his finished hot cocoa from louis and grins. “i can already play some of the stuff you have - the strokes, modest mouse, pixies.”

“no you fucking can’t,” louis exclaims. 

harry laughs. “sorry, but i can.” 

“what can you play by the pixies?”

“‘hey’.”

louis just stares, tipping his head back in amusement. he licks over his bottom lip as he contemplates something. “hmm.”

“what?”

louis shrugs. “nothing, it’s just we’re a pretty talented family, yeah?”

at first harry feels like he could puke. he can’t decide if he hates the statement more because it hints that they’re anything like either of their parents or because louis’ declaring he now feels like harry is actually his brother. 

louis apparently doesn’t notice harry’s meltdown. or, if he does, he continues without acknowledging it. “i write completely amazing poetry, you are supposedly some sort of musical prodigy, and niall is a champion bar fight brawler.” he laughs as he sips his hot cocoa and, just like that, harry wants to hug louis and never let go. 

so he does.

he throws his arms around louis’ waist and buries his face into louis neck and louis smells just like he thought he would - vanilla candles or sugar cookies or something else sweet mixed with the smell of paperback books. it takes louis a minute to reciprocate, but he ends up bringing his arms to rub circles on harry’s back and eventually rests his chin on harry’s shoulder until harry backs up and tries to calm himself down. 

“you alright?” louis asks seriously, and fuck if harry doesn’t want to jump louis again. he supposes he’ll never be truly satisfied.

“yeah,” harry nods quickly. “i’ve totally had a moment of clarity.”

louis raises his eyebrows dramatically. “really?” he asks flatly.

“yeah. montesquieu was the third of the enlightened thinkers, right?”

louis stands stupefied. 

“along with rousseau and voltaire.” 

louis nods. “yeah, that’s great.” he pauses, smiling. “that’s really great. c’mon, let’s go pick up the flashcards.”

-

the next day harry gets a bit distracted taking his test because he keeps getting sidetracked thinking of how louis had smelt when he’d hugged him, and he now expects he will forever associate enlightened thinkers with the smell of vanilla and sugar cookies. 

the first few questions are easy enough and harry becomes more and more excited the further he goes on, finally coming to the realization that he actually knew this material. it was a new feeling.

he turns around and shoots zayn a grin. zayn glares back, and when harry silently laughs at him, flips harry off. 

he hands in his test flashing a full-fledged smile at his teacher. she grimaces at him and takes it gingerly, beckoning him back to his seat. 

for the rest of the period he sits with his feet cheerfully tapping out the tune to a song by the strokes as he watches zayn every so often angrily take out his frustration with his eraser. he absolutely cannot wait to go out drinking with louis and niall and liam. 

he’s one hundred percent sure that it’s going to be a very exciting night.


	5. part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “harry,” louis says in exasperation, “this isn’t right. we’re in public.” he struggles to free his wrists from harry.
> 
> harry chuckles. “so, you’re saying if we were in private-“
> 
> “fuck,” louis chokes out. “no, i’m not saying anything.” louis looks down into his lap. “i’m not saying anything,” he repeats dully.
> 
> harry presses his nose into louis’ cheek, sighing heavily. “i’m freaking you out, i know, i’m sorry.” louis nods fiercely, face moving harry’s nose from louis’ cheek to his neck. “but it’s a lot harder to stop myself when i’m sloshed. normally it’s sort of bearable.”

louis hasn’t been shaving and he takes to wearing a maroon silk robe on the weekends. harry wonders if he’s fucking with them. with his glasses and scruff, only his head peeking out from above the newspaper, he already looks like a middle-aged university lecturer. add in the ridiculous hugh hefner robe and harry begins giggling every morning when louis waltzes out of his bedroom, hurriedly tying it snug around his waist.

harry wonders if he’s got a shirt on under it and wonders if louis would think he was just playing if he made a move to pull at the ties. he hastily decides it’s probably not worth the embarrassment and awkwardness that would come along with it and goes back to pretending not to be staring.

whenever he wears the robe niall takes off little bits of his chocolate chip muffins and tosses them over louis’ newspaper trying to hit the target of his teacup. the only way to know if niall succeeded was to hear louis moan about how chocolate chips choked him when he went to drink his tea.

“my most sincere apologies, princess.”

louis wasn’t usually one to let petty insults interrupt his reading, but he looks up anyway, scowling. “i’m not a snob, you know.”

niall looks up, stunned. “you have seen that robe, haven’t you?”

“what’s wrong with this?” louis asks, eyebrows knit. “so what if it’s classy?”

niall snuffs out a chuckle with his fist. “mate, you look like you film asian gangbangs as a day job.”

“harry, tell niall this is a perfectly respectable robe.”

harry smiles, nodding. “you know, niall, i had a friend once who wore a robe like that. but i don’t talk to her much anymore. it’s hard to reach girls once they’ve been arrested and brought up for illegal prostitution.”

niall tips his chair back laughing so hard he almost ends up flat on the ground.

“how do you know prostitutes?” louis wonders aloud in a mutter, picking his newspaper back up.

“why, do you want me to set you up?” harry asks cheerfully.

“no, but why don’t you find somebody for niall since he’s so interested in porn stars.”

niall slaps the newspaper out of louis’ hands so it flutters down to the floor. “he’ll do you one better and find you a nice toned twink so you can stop spending so many hours in the shower doing god know’s what.”

harry coughs into his mug, distinctly picturing to the death what niall’s just alluded to. in his head harry sees louis head off to the loo, shrugging off his robe and running a hand through his hair, scratching idly at his stubble. he steps into the shower and then harry fast-forwards the daydream until louis has his forehead against the shower wall and he’s panting, knees buckling into the shampoo bottles and soap.

harry forgets he’s not supposed to know louis’ given up on women. he watches louis scan over his expression and tries to look surprised. his cheeks heat up and he pretends to yawn just so he can cover up the bottom half of his face with his hand.

“i’m not looking for anybody just now.” louis clears his throat and bends down to retrieve his paper. harry dips his head sideways, eyes following louis’ body.

“you never are.” niall looks between harry and louis skeptically. “why am i the only one here in a stable relationship? i’m a total arsehole.”

“couldn’t agree more, really,” louis teases, grinning over at harry.

“harry, you probably have loads of gay boys in college, am i right? i’ve seen the crowds there.” he smiles filthily. “just like my college was: full of slutty girls and repressed athletes, yeah?”

“somehow i don’t think louis’ type is a footballer with negative percentile iq.” harry fishes around with his fork in his plate of pancakes.

“true,” niall agrees easily. “stan was a bit of a queen as well.”

“i am not a queen.” nobody pays any attention to louis.

“i thought queens usually liked the rugged manly type men, like myself.” niall chews with his mouth wide open and harry laughs because he’s not even doing it on purpose.

“i dunno, mate.” louis folds his newspaper into his lap, altogether done with it at last. “there’s nothing wrong with eating like a civilized human being.”

“you’re avoiding the question,” niall says blatantly. “whatever, i know you like roughed up men already. i’ve seen your magazines.”

louis shoots niall such a death glare, harry’s actually a bit nervous there’s going to be a brawl. then louis calmly stands up and puts his dishes in the sink. “prick,” he mumbles under his breath. harry wonders what he qualifies as under these specifications. he knows he’s not a queen.

“actually, that’s interesting. i’m pretty butch and liam’s quite flamboyant and louis likes big men and he’s rather femme. you’re a bit rough, as i am, but you don’t go for that femme type.”

harry looks to louis’ turned back. “who said i even have a type. i don’t really care about that shit.”

“so you do like those men who’re a bit demanding and snobby.” niall waits impatiently for harry to answer.

he shrugs. “yeah, i think it’s cute.” louis doesn’t move a muscle by the sink, washing out his bowl.

“what about your guy? he seems the opposite.”

harry tenses. “that might be why we’re not in a relationship.”

“bugger off about it, niall. nobody likes feeling invaded,” louis warns. “we can’t all be as open as you.”

“yeah, yeah. speaking of relationships, liam is looking forward to meeting mr. charming here when we go out this weekend.” crumbs drop down from niall’s mouth to the table below.

louis walks over from the sink to pass his own kitchen chair and hovers behind harry. “you can tell liam he won’t be meeting harry if he doesn’t impress me with his grades from that test.” louis rests his hands on the back of harry’s chair and leans his chest over the back of it so his chin is close to the top of harry’s head.

niall snorts. “talk about demanding and snobby, eh, harry?”

louis’ hand comes down to harry’s shoulder. he squeezes it gently and lets his fingers trail over harry’s collarbone briefly. he brings his head down so his nose touches harry’s ear, whispers into it hotly. “don’t answer that or you’ll be in trouble.” harry shivers.

-

harry gets his test back the next morning and pressures zayn into dropping him off after school to louis’ university parking lot. he’s knows that he’s all teeth and can feel himself bouncing from the tips of his feet up and down, but he doesn’t care if zayn says anything. he knows he’s been a bit cold to zayn recently, but it’s only because zayn’s outbursts of anger are taking a toll on harry.

zayn eyes him warily after harry asks for a ride there and nods, but doesn’t look too pleased about it. “you’re not meeting some other guy, are you?”

“yeah, my brother, you dolt.” harry feels a bit guilty watching zayn’s expression flit from disappointment to relief, knowing that it isn’t his fault that means something different to zayn than it does to him. to harry, this is sort of his confession time, the moment to be completely honest with no repercussions. he knows with the connotation the word ‘brother’ holds, the yes he’s just delivered to zayn has become overlooked. he gets the perks of spilling a dirty secret to zayn while ultimately still not fucking up anything because of the expectation that guys don’t want to fuck their brothers.

“sorry,” zayn apologizes. “i’m sort of possessive.”

“it’s sort of hot.” harry grins at zayn and pats his knee enthusiastically, but makes no move to thank zayn in any sexual manner when jumping out of the car. he waves zayn off and proceeds to wandering around for fifteen minutes until he finds louis’ car in the parking lot. he sits on the hood smoking a joint until louis comes out.

louis’ got his trench coat on, shoulders back and head held high until he sees harry laying out comfortably on his car with smoke surrounding his head. he bends down over harry and snatches the joint, throws it to the pavement, and stomps on it.

“you idiot. this is a public parking lot, you know. you’ll be arrested one of these days.” his disapproving frown tones down harry’s excitement.

“already have been,” he mumbles. louis continues to frown, expectantly waiting for him to explain himself. he pulls his rolled up test out of his pocket, handing it over to louis with pursed lips. he watches as louis’ eyes go straight to the huge red letter on the top of the page.

“you didn’t?” louis asks in disbelief, voice flat.

“you should be a teacher,” harry suggests, grinning.

“you nearly got a perfect score!” louis whispers aghast, now hurridly flipping through the pages.

harry folds his arms over his chest. “don’t look so surprised. i’m not that thick, you know.”

louis rolls his eyes. “of course you’re not. i’ve never thought you were.” harry shrugs. “how’d you get here?”

“zayn.”

louis nods. “right, well-“

“he’s a total loser, it’s nothing.” harry licks over his bottom lip. “anyway, thank you.” louis watches him in confusion. “can we go home and watch a movie or something?” louis continues to stare, his lip bit into by his teeth as he contemplates something. “i don’t care if it has subtitles,” harry hedges.

louis snaps out of wherever his head was. his top lips curves up into a small smile. “i’m still not yet happy you’ve been smoking in public.”

“but?” harry asks.

louis rolls his eyes once more. “but i am proud of you, so yeah, let’s go.” he nods towards the car. harry slings his arm over louis’ shoulder and guides him to the driver’s side, opening the door up for him. “what a gentleman,” louis jokes.

harry nods. “i said i liked demanding and snobby, didn’t i?” he only catches a second of louis’ surprise before he shuts the driver’s side door for louis and turns to walk around the other side. by the time he’s in the passenger’s seat, louis has composed his face. harry almost wishes he hadn’t.

-

harry steps on the new bath mat in front of the sink (niall had bought it in order to prevent any possible future concussions) messing with his hair. certain strands end in a sharp line pointing down to the middle of his ear while others miserably hang by his neck snarled because he hates bothering to comb it. he doesn’t know why he’s going through the motions of combing it tonight - the only prerequisite to going out and getting sloshed was making sure you had condoms in your pocket for those last minute reckless decisions.

harry frowns at his reflection. like hell he’s going to try to get into some random guy’s pants when he has the opportunity to get into louis’ head. he doesn’t mean to make it sound like he’s going to pry exactly - but if he has to order louis a couple extra beers before louis loosens up, well, that’s a given.

he’s saved up money for the occasion, not buying any weed just so he can - you know - get his brother drunk. it sounds ten times more fucked up in the dead quiet of the bathroom five minutes before they leave then it had a week before daydreaming about louis with a sweaty forehead and clammy hands running up harry’s neck pulling him up to the counter of a pub, saying “and my brother here will take a rum and coke.”

suddenly this is all very real.

“harry, you better not be painting your nails in there!” niall calls from down the hall. “us butch men have to stick together!”

harry quickly adjusts the collar of his jacket, popping it up around his neck. he hopes it looks more grungey drug dealer than boy band and recedes to the living room.

coming face to face with the louis who’s gone out of his way to look pretty - not louis in the morning yawning with little pen marks on his hands from writing in the dark in his bedroom the night before - is startling.

louis is wearing a cranberry colored set of braces over a black button-up shirt, lips moving as he chews on gum a little maniacally. harry tips his head to the side, wondering what people who met louis in bars and had never seem him curled up on the couch in a satin robe before thought of him. did they think he was a complete slut? an alcoholic? could they tell he was gay?

louis smiles softly at harry, tipping his head to the door. “we’ll meet liam at the pub. he works there.”

niall has to push on harry’s shoulders playfully to get him moving as he’s stopped dead in his tracks watching louis stroll out of the flat with his hands stuck easily in the pockets of his trousers. harry’s afraid someone will try to chat his brother up while they’re out - and how could they not? he looks bloody sexy. hary almost starts to miss louis’ glasses and joggers already. at least then, at home with no other options in the form of legal men who weren’t related to louis, harry had a claim on his brother.

out in the real world, where there were dozens of men with ulterior motives and mixed ideas about his brother, harry can’t pretend as easily that he has some sort of special connection to louis. blood may run thicker than water, but comfort is made in good time, and harry hasn’t had enough time with louis to feel safe about going out in public with him and to be expected to keep his hands to himself and not claim what’s his.

-

the pub is called lion and tiger, the painted white letters bold and unforgettable painted across the huge top of the building, running across the wood looking timeless. liam works at the counter; he’s a bartender. it’s funny to harry in a way he expects the novelty has long worn off for louis and niall - liam is, because of health risks, barely allowed to drink, yet his very career prohibits him from staying away from alcohol for more than maybe five minutes at a time.

niall walks bowlegged over to the counter wearing his ridiculously frat boy-esque white tank top and plants one directly on liam’s mouth. liam is pleasantly surprised, pink rising around the apples of his cheeks. he greets louis with a cheerful wave and gets to work on what harry assumes are their regular orders.

harry pulls up a seat in between niall and louis. his fingers edge over the counter, nails trailing into the slits in the wood from age. as it’s already nine o’clock in the evening, it’s very dark inside. the hanging lights above harry cast neat shadows onto harry’s hands. when he takes a beer from liam the light skims prettily from harry’s fingers to the glass in a spectrum of colors.

“when do you get off?” louis asks, sipping his beer slowly. liam opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by his boyfriend.

“i think that question is for me to answer,” niall corrects. liam rolls his eyes, then turns back to louis.

“andy comes in around now, so it shouldn’t be too long.” louis nods. then, liam looks to harry with interest.

“i’m guessing you’re harry. you don’t look much like your brother.” liam reaches his hand out for harry to shake it. harry does, cringing. he’s quite glad he doesn’t look like louis or vice versa. if they were as similar looking as twins, wouldn’t that make harry’s infatuation nearly one hundred times worse? not only would he be fantasizing about someone directly blood related to him, but he would also be horribly arrogant.

“no harm meant,” liam quickly adds when he judges harry’s expression. harry feels a bit violated just then. most people don’t tend to call harry out on his less than enthused facial expressions. “you’re both lovely looking lads.”

“yet somehow not as handsome as you, li.” niall chucks liam on the chin, smiling.

liam laughs. “that’s still three pounds from you. flattery won’t get you anything for free.”

louis glances over to harry, says, “niall’s lucky liam is so lighthearted, really. he’s a bit of an old soul, i think.”

“coming from the university-aged man who speaks like a sixty year old scholar.” harry keeps his eyes straight ahead at the wall behind liam where some of the more expensive lager laid.

he feels louis knock his hand into harry’s arm. “brat,” he says in a soft laugh. “come on, we’re getting a table. andy’s here.” he points to the door where a tall man stands, pulling off sunglasses he shouldn’t have needed to wear outside at night. the guy looks a bit like what may have inspired the pub’s name on the lion side. he’s got his blonde hair combed back like a yellow mane, silky and thin.

andy claps liam on the back as they switch positions. then, harry follows louis to the corner of the place, trying not to feel jealous of the casual way niall wraps his arm around liam’s waist and tugs him so fast into his own side that liam trips a bit over his own feet.

even if situations were reversed and louis were even half as interested in harry as harry was in him, they were still brothers and harry was sure in this kind of small place everyone already knew that.

-

eventually there’s so many pints on the table, both filled and empty depending on whom they were stacked in front of (niall has tossed the most down to nobody’s surprise while louis’ collection was a bit limited) that there’s no longer any elbow space to relax on. everyone has their arms in their laps or around the guy next to them.

as louis progressively got to feeling more and more comfortable, as far as harry could guess, he began looking very lax. he leans back in his chair so that his head is very low down the chair’s back and his legs kick out way across to touch at niall’s feet.

harry finally understands why louis doesn’t come out much with niall and liam - they’re like lovesick puppies when inebriated, though liam has barely had one glass. every so often niall will shout out something he thinks is either hilarious or dirty - or hilariously dirty - and then he’ll go back to whispering into liam’s ear like it never happened.

louis is making his way through rum now, brought over to them by andy, who’s been watching them greedily all evening. harry knows that look like the back of his hand. andy’s strung out on something and is craving a drink, but can’t while he’s working. he sits the rum down beside louis heavily and stalks off, like he could tell from the counter that louis wasn’t as drunk as he could be. harry shrugs to himself. maybe he could.

louis giggles watching liam trying to shove a clingy niall off of his shoulder, liam doing so as if it was a nightly occurrence. louis has to wipe some rum off of his chin. harry wishes he could lick it off. but neither louis nor harry is sloshed enough for that. he still imagines with a little desperation, wriggling around in his seat, how it’d feel to be licking salt up from louis’ neck, and guiltily tosses back vodka.

“how did you two meet?” harry asks. louis is keeping himself entertained beside harry by biting on the rim of an empty beer bottle. harry crosses his legs and tries very hard not to stare.

“at a halloween party two years ago,” liam replies grinning while he carefully moves the latest pitcher andy has passed on to them from their table to another, stealthily limiting the amount of alcohol niall will consume. niall is so focused on playing with liam’s earlobe he doesn’t notice.

“oh, yeah?” harry asks.

“i was dressed as posh spice-“

“hell yeah you were,” niall slurs.

liam rolls his eyes and continues, “and niall was dressed as some sort of ridiculous gangster or mobster, whatever it was.”

“i looked well dangerous!” niall hollers in offense. louis snorts from beside harry, then he moves into harry’s space to tug at harry’s arm so he could whisper in his ear.

“he looked like a smarmy git,” louis says very loudly instead. harry laughs loudly. niall halfheartedly kicks at louis’ ankles from beneath the table.

“what did you like about him?” harry asks liam, curious. niall suddenly becomes very quiet, mouth curving downward in concentration. harry would bet anything that niall doesn’t feel good enough for liam and was afraid to hear liam’s answer. harry looks to louis, still looking proper with his nice shirt and dapper braces and sighs. he can relate.

liam purses his lips. “he was very funny. he came right up to me and asked for a dance. i’d never been pursued by somebody so upfront before. i was used to posh guys from oxford coming up to me and trying to get me to come to tennis matches or whatever, hoping for some sort of secret gay affair. niall came up and said he wanted to get me drunk. it was quite refreshing.”

harry smiles broadly. as jealous as he is, he’s happy for them, happy to see such a functioning pair of adults in love.

louis grins at niall, kicking him softly under the table. “want to tell harry what you liked about liam straight away?”

niall shrugs. “he knows i liked his face straight away. liam’s a very captivating lad. he looks like the setting sun. no - better.” liam flushes. niall shuffles back upright in his seat, kisses liam wetly on the cheek.

“no!” louis yells, upset. “you told me you thought he was way out of your league before you went up to him!” harry bites his lip to hold himself back from chuckling. judging from liam’s surprised frown and niall’s sudden interest in the pitcher of beer liam had previously hidden behind them, this was a revelation to liam.

“you thought i was what - too good for you?” liam says with scrunched eyebrows. “why?”

“oh, come off it, liam.” niall drops the heavy pitcher of beer onto the table so it rattles all the other empty glasses. “you’re fantastic. you’re kind with children and smart with school and talented with a guitar. i’m a complete drunk.” with that, he laughs darkly and tips back his beer.

liam licks his lips, taken aback. “why are you so intent on making yourself seem like a horrible person? i would never stay with someone for over two years out of - pity or decency or whatever you think i’m doing.” he grabs onto niall’s chin and forces him to meet his eyes. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” niall mumbles lowly. “i’m going to go get some whiskey now.” he stands up tipping over to one side in a way that worries harry a second before he pulls himself back together and kisses the top of liam’s head before wandering off and up to andy at the counter.

liam sighs and looks to louis and harry with an apologetic frown. “i think i’m going to go make sure he’s alright to be standing.”

louis looks to harry tensely. “sorry about this, haz. i guess maybe this wasn’t my brightest idea.” harry’s mind goes cloudy and he wants to say so many things, his whole body is on fire trying to show louis what he’s not explicitly supposed to tell him.

louis’ pupils seem a little larger, or maybe harry’s imagining it. he leans in towards louis, his eyes trailing louis down from head to hip. he lets his breath rush out hotly onto louis’ cheek, dying to be closer to him.

“are you feeling ill?” louis asks suddenly. “we should get you home.”

“you going to take me home, louis?” harry asks indecently, chuckling.

louis grimaces. “harry, i think you’re a bit confused.”

“‘mm not confused,” harry mumbles.

louis ignores him. “you’re drunk. you think you sound like you’re joking but-“

harry grips louis’ wrist, fingers gently stroking over louis’ knuckles. “i am a bit drunk, but i’m not confused.” he keeps his eyes down so he doesn’t have to witness louis’ blood running out of his face, going pale with terror. he knows this isn’t fair to him, louis never asked for this. but harry’s so fed up with this and it’s so difficult to stop himself again and again every single time he starts closing in on louis. “it’s not the booze,” he whispers. “well, it is a bit. because i wouldn’t be touching you like this if i hadn’t had anything to drink.”

“harry,” louis says in exasperation, “this isn’t right. we’re in public.” he struggles to free his wrists from harry.

harry chuckles. “so, you’re saying if we were in private-“

“fuck,” louis chokes out. “no, i’m not saying anything.” louis looks down into his lap. “i’m not saying anything,” he repeats dully.

harry presses his nose into louis’ cheek, sighing heavily. “i’m freaking you out, i know, i’m sorry.” louis nods fiercely, face moving harry’s nose from louis’ cheek to his neck. “but it’s a lot harder to stop myself when i’m sloshed. normally it’s sort of bearable.”

louis whines, trying to move his head away from his brother’s. harry brings his hand up to hold onto louis’ chin. “louis, you have no idea-“

“good,” louis interrupts with a choking noise, “let’s keep it that way.” he stands up so quickly an empty beer bottle crashed to the floor and shatters. harry looks up to the bar to make sure it’s gone unnoticed. it has. he watches louis flee to the loo and wants to punch something.

the longest sixty seconds of harry’s life become just then, deciding whether or not he should go after louis. following someone into the toliet never looks normal - and who’s to say if the loo was only one stall and didn’t have individual ones? then it would look a thousand times worse. it wasn’t as if there were enough people in that night to make it look inconspicuous.

he looks over to the bar where niall and liam were huddled in together, bar stools pulled in way too close to be platonic friends at a pub. harry wishes he had that kind of audacity, only it’s not just audacity. it’s the situation. louis is his brother for fuck’s sake.

fuck it.

harry gets up and goes to the loo.

louis is leaning against the sink, his back to the mirror, hand over his mouth when harry comes in. he’s lucky this time - there are multiple stalls, which should make things seem more casual. however, harry locks the door on his way in, which probably defeats the purpose.

“harry, i think i need a minute.” louis squints his eyes shut tight and cowers like a dog against the sink. harry peers closer, not wanting to alert him, but all the same dying to move in. louis’ face shines slick - as if he’s been crying. but that can’t be - he’s only been in the bathroom for a minute alone.

harry walks to louis slowly, feet stopping short when the toes of his shoes hit the toes of his brother’s. he presses his lips together, wanting to bang his head up against the wall because there’s a good chance he made louis cry. louis, who was so strong and impossible to rattle.

harry grips louis’ forearm in an apology, blood boiling because he’s so angry with himself. he wants to kiss the wet places of louis’ face.

louis shrugs as much backwards as he can from harry, which isn’t very far. he already has his back against the sink. harry just moves closer, reaches his hand up and uses his sweaty thumb to wipe at louis’ cheeks. when his hand hits louis’ face, louis drops his head and chokes up again. “god, this is so fucked up,” he murmers.

“i’m so sorry,” harry says softly. “i’m sorry, lou.”

louis shakes his head back and forth quickly, pretends he’s fine. “i can’t forget you’re still a kid.”

“you said yourself i haven’t been a kid for a very long time,” harry whispers, hips touching louis’. he’s got louis pressed already into the sink, his lower back is probably scraping it, so how much further can they move?

louis drops his head to harry’s shoulder, eyes still closed to keep the tears back. “i didn’t mean to make you cry. i’m not fucking with you, okay?” harry says into louis’ ear. “i want to make you come. i can make you come,” he repeats in a whisper.

louis’ fists harry’s shirt and he swears under his breath, fingers digging into the skin of harry’s waist. “you can’t just say things like that,” he mutters.

“lou, i could die from this, i really could.” harry lifts louis’ head backwards, tips it so louis’ neck is exposed, presses his mouth to it and sobs dryly. he cries without any tears, too frustrated to actually get that far. “it’s all i can do not to just put you on top of the sink and kiss you.”

louis doesn’t say anything, but there are fresh track marks on his face where hot new tears come down in haphazard lines. “i wish we were in your bed,” harry whispers. “i wish i could pull the blankets over us so nobody could see.” louis tilts his head back up and tries to push harry away with two weak hands. they’re hands that are giving up. louis is giving up.

“i can’t do this,” louis says. “i can’t even push you off. i can’t.” his voice cracks. harry cups the back of louis’ neck and kisses over louis’ cheeks, tasting the salt. his top lip drags over the space between louis’ nose and his mouth. harry already feels better. he feels like this is it, this is where he needs to be. but it’s still chaos in his head. he needs to be closer. he’s so close.

louis’ head slowly tips up, making harry’s lips drag from above louis’ mouth to his mouth. louis’ mouth falls open. he’s stuck between giving up and fighting. he can’t do either. it’s up to harry.

he could spin on his heels, burst open the door, walk straight out of the pub and never look back. he could go on with his life pretending he’s fine spending every waking second wanting something he isn’t supposed to want, something he can’t rightfully take. not without asking for permission. but harry feels like louis is giving him permission.

harry could still turn; he still has time to run.

he slides his tongue under louis’ bottom lip, gracing it just for a second, more louis’ chin than his mouth. louis whimpers. harry kisses louis chastely, makes his tongue play nice. all the voices have quieted in his head. now it’s just louis.

harry can’t even tell how long of a kiss it is because everything sort of dwindles in comparison to the light pressure of louis' lips under his. when harry starts pulling back to wrap his hands around louis’ hips and move him up to the sink, louis greedily moves forward, searching for harry.

“i don’t know what i’m doing. i can’t think-” louis stars, but harry pressures louis’ mouth open so wide it hurts, hands manhandling louis up on to the edge of the sink. louis is almost unresponsive until harry pulls his brother’s legs around his own waist.

“harry, this-” harry nudges his head down into louis’ neck, feels the hot and sweaty skin above louis’ waistband. his hand sneaks down further until he feels louis’ stuttering breath breezing down the back of his neck.

“this is fucked up, is that what you were going to say?” harry murmurs. louis falls back so his head is against the mirror, harry closing in on louis with one hand against the mirror holding him in place, next to louis’ ear, and the other down louis’ pants. harry pants, licking up sweat under louis’ chin as his fingers curl around louis’ dick. within a matter of minutes, louis is making choking sounds again. he fists the fabric on harry’s shoulder and then harry finally opens louis’ mouth back up, kissing him deeply while his fingers slide over louis’ tip.

“harry, i don’t-” louis whines again, biting back a sob.

“how much longer do you need your brother for?” harry questions directly into louis’ ear. louis comes with a sob, but this time the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes are from sexual frustration. harry keeps stroking until louis is shivering, then he only moves his hand to stroke at louis’ hip.

“i don’t know if i can stop touching you,” harry tell louis softly. “i don’t know if i can let you go.” louis’ head lolls to the mirror now, sniffling. “don’t cry,” harry begs, “please don’t cry.” he presses a kiss to the underside of louis’ jaw, voice breaking. “you’re making me cry.”

louis looks at harry, pressing his lips together in one despairing line to stomp out the sob that comes out anyway from between his lips. “i’m supposed to be protecting you,” louis says tearfully.

“it works both ways,” harry promises, completely missing the point. he pulls louis in for a hug.

“do you think we can get past this?” louis asks with fresh tears streaming down his face.

“i don’t know if i want to,” harry answers honestly. “i’m happy.”

louis nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “so am i. but i feel horrible.”

-

liam looks at them a little bit funny on the way out. they tell niall to get a ride with liam and leave by themselves in louis’ car. louis is exhausted by the time they get to the car, so harry offers to drive. he isn’t supposed to legally, but what the fuck. it wouldn’t be his first illegal activity of the night, seeing as he’s already drank illegally and jerked his own brother off. which he’s ninety percent sure is illegal in this part of britain.

or any part of britain.

harry keeps giving louis little side-glances all the way home, making sure he’s not silently sobbing or anything. he’s horribly guilty now, not so much because of what they did, but more that he can tell he’s made louis upset. and it’s not as if this is something small that they can work on and fix. this is not like one of those times when you borrow something from someone and lose it, so you have to go and buy a new one for them.

harry can’t buy back what he just stole from louis.

he pulls up to the parking lot for their complex and goes around to the passenger’s side of the car to fetch louis. he has to shake his shoulders a bit to wake him up, which he does egregiously. then, he has louis lean on him and wraps one stable arm around louis’ waist, carting him to the elevator.

he more or less puts louis to bed. on his way out the door, he sees a small handheld type of notebook with little white plastic rings for the binding sitting on louis’ desk. he opens it feeling guilty, but honestly, how much more guilty could he possibly get?

there are a few blank pages in front, like louis knew there was a small chance someone would find this and figured if they opened it and were not intrigued by the first few blank pages they would put it down and walk away.

well, harry doesn’t give up that easily.

there’s a page folded over to keep the place of a poem louis’ written halfway into the notebook. harry reads it with anxious limbs, hands shaking.

_you stay out all night as if you’re out drinking blood_

_upon every exit, and come home smelling like wilted rosebuds._

_and you dent my mattress so it’s feathers and straw_

_claim me at night, marking my spine up red and raw._

_you wander frequently, before and after each bone to pick is laid bare,_

_and you sing like syrup and honey without a microphone._

_and i leave just as easily with a dog bone trapped under my heavy tongue,_

_come home empty-handed, slip out of my collar, and go to my rum._

_so i live for eighty proof booze and the obligatory salt -_

_still, every time a tear brims on the pink fault_

_line of your lid, and threatens to spew,_

_well, each one is less equipped to pain me than you._


	6. part five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> louis’ body tightens up like a boa constrictor has gotten itself wrapped around his chest cavity and is tugging, tugging on all the bits there. “will you stop shivering?” he asks in aggravation.
> 
> harry chuckles. “yeah, sure. just lemme find my off switch.”
> 
> “fucker,” louis says, “get over here.” he extends his arm across the back of the seat like he’s already at the cinema and is trying to get to second base on harry. his stomach does flips when harry accepts and shuffles over so his hip tucks neatly into louis’ side.

pots and pans are flying all over the kitchen and louis’ bedroom walls are closing in all around him. it sounds as if there’s some sort of tornado swirling in the room opposite the wall louis’ bed is pressed against and the only things caught up in the eye of it are assorted tupperware collections. there’s loud voices, not screams, but yelling - almost growling. louis rolls so his face is pressed into his pillow and doesn’t care so much that he can’t really breathe this way, just wishes the noises would all fade into obscurity.

the next thing he knows niall is standing at the foot of his bed, expression absolutely shocked. he’s grabbing and pulling at louis’ feet through his comforter. louis quickly sits up straight in bed, chest bare, and he realizes he’s freezing.

“louis,” niall begins, distraught. “you thought i was a hooligan when we were in college, but you wouldn’t even - there’s this bloke who’s just left who was in here throwing a bloody hissy fit over harry.”

louis squints past niall into his windows, confused. “did this hissy fit involve my best christmas plates in any way?”

“oh, fuck off.” niall trots still hyped up from the scare to the side of louis’ bed and paces. “this nutter came barging in here looking for harry and stood over him on the couch screaming because the kid’s got love bites running up his fucking neck.”

louis stills. niall goes on, explaining what’s just happened. something about harry going to the kitchen to make pancakes and zayn tossing the plates from their cabinets into the wall. louis can’t help but feel odd, though, about one part of niall’s story. why did harry have love bites? he hadn’t gone home with anybody, obviously, because he drove louis home, hadn’t he?

“harry promised the bloody imbecile he hasn’t been sleeping around, but jesus, it’s that or he’s been bringing your vacuum cleaner to bed.”

louis brings his hand up to his mouth and his eyes go wide. oh no. no way. harry had brought louis home, hand resting on louis’ thigh. harry’s face so close to his he could count harry’s eyelashes pushing him onto his bed and tucking his arms under his covers. what had happened before that?

harry blurring in and out of his vision standing in front of him with his hands on louis’ hips, breath ghosting over his ear. harry sticking his hand down louis’ pants. louis itches at his stomach in bed, terrified as he remembers being touched there by his little brother. how did he let this happen?

he wasn’t even that drunk, really.

niall starts to go fuzzy in front of him and he feels his eyelids close, shutting them so the water doesn’t come out in front of niall. he’s been intimate with his brother. his little brother. harry’s over in the next room sporting fucking hickeys because louis had been drunk last night. except louis knows that’s only half of it. harry had been drinking too, probably a lot more than louis had, and had followed him into the bathroom.

he covers his face up with his hands, pretending he’s too tired to be bothered by niall’s antics, and tells him to leave. “listen, niall, clean up the broken dishes if you can. i’ll be up soon, i’m just a little hungover.”

niall leaves unconcerned, still too confused by the morning’s activities that he doesn’t notice louis is already crying. he’s been crying so much lately he keeps forgetting that most people don’t cry several times a week. most people don’t fantasize about being fucked by their brother and most people don’t act on it. most people.

louis sobs dryly, throat too clenched up to get anything out. he almost feels the need to puke and can’t distinguish if it’s because he’s hungover or because he’s so ashamed by himself.

he briefly wonders if it could count as rape almost - then quickly dismisses it. obviously if harry has love bites louis had given them to him. he can’t even remember doing it. pity he’d gone through all the work to stick harry with the proof of a terrible mistake only to forget the happiness he’d felt doing it.

now he thinks of how he can even face harry, even go out into the kitchen and eat his fucking toast as if nothing has gone wrong. as if louis hasn’t let his brother wrap his hand around him and kiss him and wipe away his tears with his fucking mouth.

he cries for what his mum would say, how her face would contort if she knew, if she was alive. he cries for harry, how normal harry would be if he only grew up without spending any time with their dad. he cries for himself, how stupidly ignorant and happy he might be if harry was off at boarding school still.

boarding school.

louis could send harry back to boarding school.

louis groans and presses his knuckles to his eyes, still crying. it’s never going to be enough, he could send harry to timbuktu and he would still remember the way harry had put him to bed, kissing the top of his head.

he runs to the bathroom and pukes into the toilet bowl and is quite relieved that it can be blamed on the alcohol he’d had the night before.

-

louis waits for the door to slam shut on niall’s way out that day to pick liam up from work until he leaves his bedroom for reasons other than dry heaving into the toilet. he knows it probably seems like he’s horribly ill, but it’s more in his head than anything else.

harry is nestled on the couch with the blankets he sleeps with at night that louis usually tucks away in the hall closet encircling him so only his face is really free of down feathers. louis comes to the conclusion that his brother hasn’t much gotten out of ‘bed’ so to speak, not putting away his blankets. his eyes are rimmed red like he’s been crying as well and louis feels disgusted with himself.

louis sits next to harry, carefully not touching him or even the blankets acting as a shield between the two of them. harry gives him a sideways glance of appreciation, like he’s relieved to see louis finally leave his bedroom. louis wants to claw his own skin off because he feels so guilty for what he’s about to do. harry presses his lips together, presumably waiting for louis to say something.

“harry, i think, maybe - you’re not where you should be. i think it’s bad for you to be here with me. living with me, i mean.” he’s quick and quiet about it, trying to sound like it’s easy for him to say when really his skin is crawling. what will he do when harry is gone and louis is left here alone on this couch, forgetting a little more of how harry looks when he naps day by day?

“you want me to leave?” harry asks darkly. he looks to his lap, wraps the blanket tighter around himself like he’s suddenly gone cold.

louis stabs his thigh with a fingernail and swallows heavily. “no,” he says honestly, and for a second his whole body feels light as a feather. harry looks up, hopeful. “but i think you should. because it’s not good for you here.”

“why is it not?” harry asks, eyes piercing louis’.

louis recoils, looking over to the tv, which is shut off. “i can’t do this, it’s not healthy.”

“lou, please,” harry begs. “i don’t want to go anywhere.”

louis’ throat tightens back up and he knows he’s going to cry for the fifteenth time today, there’s no denying that. “i think you’d be better off at your old school with your old friends.”

harry nods in understanding, lip curling up in disgust. “don’t pretend you’re mum.”

louis whips around to look at harry. “fine. do you want the truth? this can’t happen again, it can’t. i’m going to kill myself before i let this happen again.”

“i haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.” harry’s eyes bore into his. “i’m probably still drunk right now.”

louis inhales so harshly he almost tastes the air that harry breathes out. he knows harry’s pretending for the sake of normalcy, but he can’t keep reiterating the same shit about wanting harry to leave over and over again when it isn’t even true in the slightest. “okay,” he says. “i want breakfast.”

“it’s three in the afternoon,” harry says with a small, choked up laugh.

louis shrugs. “yeah, let’s just go out and get an omelette.” he shakes the feeling of indecency off of him and goes for his car keys. “c’mon.”

-

“zayn’s dead,” harry says one day shortly thereafter louis tells him he can stay if he brings up his grades. that’s when louis starts letting harry take sick days. on harry’s first sick day louis goes to uni as he would any other day, but when he comes home harry is sitting on the floor of their living room staring at the wall with his arms wrapped around himself. the tv is off and the windows are open. it’s freezing inside and harry is half naked.

on harry’s second sick day louis stays home too. he lets harry curl up in his bed and sleep because the couch isn’t good enough in a situation like this. louis thinks nothing is going to be good enough for harry in a situation like this. and he still doesn’t know how zayn’s died. harry isn’t talking about it.

when harry goes to sleep at night on the couch he wakes up with night sweats, panting from bad dreams, and clenches his fists up angrily, trying to find something to do to keep his mind off everything. louis goes out there one night to get a drink of water and finds harry just sitting there staring off into space again, so he tugs him by the shoulders into his bedroom and wraps him up in extra blankets.

it’s like harry has just gotten back from a war and can’t speak about it yet for fear of reliving it in his head although louis is quite sure harry hadn’t been there when it’d happened. harry is completely still beside him and louis knows he isn’t sleeping. in the day he naps for brief periods of time - at the kitchen table while louis makes his tea, for example - like harry doesn’t want to sleep in the dark.

louis is contemplating getting harry into a therapist’s office when niall comes up to him on harry’s fourth sick day.

“mate,” niall says, shaking his head, “you need to get out of here. go take a jog or something.” louis isn’t a jogger and niall knows that. “go buy yourself something.” louis shuffles away from niall in his heavy socks. the weather is getting bad. he feels like he’s the one who’s lost someone - harry.

after louis’ skipped five days of class he knows he’s pushing it too far and he goes back, sees his professors and picks up his work. eleanor greets him with a one armed friendly hug and asks if she can stop by sometime to go out for lunch. louis nods politely. he isn’t much excited to see her, but she looks positively glowing to be seeing him, so he agrees.

-

“he got crushed by a car.” harry rubs at his arms idly (he looks like he might have goosebumps). louis nods seriously, face drawn. the thought of harry loving this rotten kid who came into their home and started throwing plates into the wall just to break them makes him feel physically ill. what was worse, though, was coming to the realization that anybody that violent with dishware probably wasn’t too kind to other people. harry’s never come home with bruises, though, as far as louis knows. he tries to put it out of his mind.

“i want to get sloshed,” harry admits.

louis exhales heavily. “how about a nice nap instead?”

“okay, mum.” harry snorts. louis steers him down the hall with meaningful eyes like he’s herding a pack of sheep. every time harry stops to look at a crack in the wall or turns for the kitchen where niall keeps his whiskey louis will block him and point to his own bedroom.

“i don’t want to sleep.” harry looks up to louis with his puppy dog eyes. he’s been out of school for a week. he’s got circles there like panda bear eyes. he’s only showered once all the while.

“you need to sleep,” louis mutters, pointing to his bed. “it’s more comfortable than the couch, you said so yourself.”

“i don’t care,” harry says, shrugging. “just let me up and i’ll sit with you and watch tv or something.”

louis glares at him. “sleep.”

“get in too,” harry murmurs.

louis pinches the bridge of his nose. “why?”

“because,” harry says, “it’s easier to sleep if you’re nearby.”

louis groans internally. he has to keep reminding himself harry isn’t trying to woo him. it just feels like it at times, especially when they’re in his bed at night and he feels harry slip closer and put his face between his own pillow and louis’.

it’s bright in his bedroom and louis expects harry appreciates it, so he doesn’t shut the blinds. niall is at the pub with liam so he leaves the door wide open. harry is beside him in bed, eyebrows cinched.

“what’s wrong?” louis asks.

harry shrugs noncommittally. louis turns so they’re face to face. he meets harry’s eyes carefully, then gently prods harry in the shoulder. harry’s eyes drop shut. “thanks,” harry says with his eyes closed. his hair is being pulled toward the pillow, so his forehead looks big and clear. louis wants to rub his thumb over it.

“for what?” he asks.

“letting me sleep here.” he opens his eyes and grits his teeth together, looking exhausted.

louis brings his hand up again, rubbing harry’s shoulder gently and putting aside the urge to kiss his nose. “alright,” he murmurs, “what am i to do?”

harry chuckles. “go to sleep.”

louis rolls his eyes. he runs his fingers past harry’s ear, brushing some of his hair backwards. harry snickers.

“idiot,” he says. his eyes slip shut. louis watches his face turning slowly from laughter back into discomfort and trouble the closer to sleep he gets. louis scooches over and watches harry open an eye curiously, drowsy. he coaxes harry’s face into his chest. harry immediately sighs and smushes his nose into louis’ neck, flattening out against his brother with his quiet sigh of relief. louis slips his arm around harry’s back and runs his hand back and forth across it.

when he awakens there’s a shadow at his doorway and louis begins to see this as a reoccurring theme, always being pulled away from sweet sleep because something terrible awaits him. it’s eleanor this time, not niall. he supposes she came for lunch. instead she shows up mid-afternoon to see the guy she’d been dating cozied up in bed in broad daylight with his male flat mate.

she has a look of absolute discomfort written on her face. louis’ still never told her harry is his brother. not that it really changes all that much, considering. more or less, eleanor was seeing here what niall and liam haven’t and what zayn would never. she was the unbiased third party with a limited amount of knowledge.

louis wonders why she let herself in.

“i’ll just - call you later.” she walks backwards with a regretfully slow pace. louis watches her go, transfixed, like he’s mute. he doesn’t want to call out to her - either because he honestly cares very little what conclusion she draws or just because he doesn’t want to wake harry - either seems plausible she leaves with heavy footsteps and louis is incredibly grateful harry is a heavy sleeper.

harry snuffles into his neck, fingers twitching against the arm louis hasn’t got draped around him. hating himself, louis decides to go back to sleep. the comforter wears down on his body until it feels like a rock and he gives in again and soaks against harry’s skin like water.

-

“you’ve got to get him out of there,” liam says with a tense voice. “i remember when my best mate moved when i was a kid. imagine this if he was in a relationship with the guy.”

louis twists around on the bar stool in front of liam, shaking his head maniacally. “he wasn’t dating him.” his fingers tap strategically over the places where the digs in the wood are. they’re back at the lion and tiger, the three of them, like snap, crackle, and pop. little plastic versions of themselves that melt in their cardboard boxes stacked up in the attic until christmas - ornaments, not people.

niall turns to him, giving him a funny look. “they were fucking at least.”

“says who?” louis spits out vehemently.

niall tips his head to the side and shakes it in pity. “you’re going stir crazy in there and so is he. the little bugger keeps leaving soda cans everywhere. i don’t think he’s slept in a week.”

“you would know,” louis says, “you’re up til all hours tucked away in your computer chair with those games.”

niall flips him off. “they’re graphics programs. anyway, let's just all go out or something.”

liam nods along encouragingly. obviously they’re both waiting on louis’ answer.

“no fucking way,” louis says. “look where that got us last time.”

niall grimaces. “not our fault your brother’s a slut, mate. i mean, i hated the guy too, but if you were cheated on you’d be angry.” at this liam shoots this odd, quick little look to niall that he misses. louis doesn’t know what to make of it, really. he pushes it out of his mind.

“right,” he says, sighing. “nothing with alcohol. something respectable.”

“the cinema,” liam says. “what’s the worst that can happen in a movie theater? somebody spills their skittles?”

“once a girl blew me in the cinema,” niall declares dreamily.

liam snorts. “so how is that a bad thing?”

“well, she was pretty shit at it. still, it’s the thought that counts. nothing on you, though, babe.” liam’s face goes raspberry colored and he turns around to finish restocking the booze before louis can say anything about this.

“the kid was a git, yeah, but there was something wrong up there. maybe it fucked with harry a bit,” niall throws out casually. he slips around on his bar stool so he faces louis. “this zayn guy’s parents should have sent him to anger management.”

louis looks blankly to niall. “why? he was already so good at it.”

“yeah,” niall says, barking out a laugh. “but it’s true. for all we know harry’s boyfriend had harry doing crazy shit - hardcore drugs, whatever. we’ll never know now.”

“harry cares about this guy more now than he did before,” louis points out without any tone to his voice, flat and with hopefulness “it’s easier to love dead things. you forget everything bad they’ve ever done once they’re dead.”

niall stares at him for the longest time, but louis’ busy sipping his rum with a stupid orange straw liam’s given him as a joke that hadn’t really made anyone laugh. it was a nice effort, though.

-

louis picks harry up from school when he goes back on a monday and it’s freezing outside because winter is quickly approaching. louis desperately tugs on his beanie to get it over his frozen earlobes, but it’s barely long enough to do the trick. he cranks the stereo up (an old mix of his - this is placebo, so it should feel out of place, but it doesn’t. placebo is for people who go out in leather pants and leave cigarette ashes on their friends’ inner arms when they realize they need stubbing out. louis is not this person).

“you want to go to the cinema with the lads and i?” louis asks wearily. he tries to sound cheerful, but it’s hard with harry looking like a living version of voodoo doll beside him - all hard stomach caving in towards the wrong direction because he’s not eating and wearing too few layers for the current temperature. his cheeks are pink, though, and it relieves louis greatly. harry still has functioning body parts, working blood stream and firing neurons.

harry turns and nods. “yeah, okay.” his voices rattles out in an expectantly quivering way. he curls his hands up into fists, shaking all over.

louis frowns. “harry,” he says with worry, “stick your hands by the heater.” he points to the slats in the dash while his other hand goes for the ignition. harry ignores him, eyes somewhere else entirely. “harry,” he stresses “c’mon.” he pokes at harry’s arm.

harry whips around, static electricity making louis’ gloved hand on harry’s bare one get shocked. he flinches, then laughs in a scary manner, loud and obnoxious when he had just been deftly mute and unmoving. louis watches, one hand frozen on the ignition and one on harry’s hand. he curls his gloved hand around harry’s bare one and squeezes.

“it’s fucking cold,” harry says suddenly after his bout of insane laughter passes. “it wasn’t this cold this morning.”

louis keeps turning to keep a watchful eye on him while he drives them home. “it was too. maybe even lower.”

harry frowns. “my skin’s freezing.” one full body shudder later, louis grumbles.

“can we talk about zayn?” louis blurts and then immediately regrets it.

harry stills suddenly, stops shivering. louis is paralyzed for a second. had he put harry back into his zombie-like trance? would harry cease to communicate again? but instead, harry purses his lips and nods.

“what do you want to know?” in typical harry fashion, everything is on the plate - which means nothing is, because there’s so much guesswork involved it’s almost not worth thinking up questions because louis is sure he’ll never be asking the right ones.

louis sighs in defeat. “i don’t know. did you love him?”

“no.” harry shifts a little in discomfort. his hand slips from louis’ and he puts it in his lap, shivering again.

“did he love you?”

harry looks out the window so louis can only see his ear. “yeah.” a pause. “he wasn’t good at it, though.”

louis nods while he waits for harry to continue, but he just doesn’t he needs more poking. “did he hurt you?”

harry laughs. “yeah, he asked stacey fiddler to the prom instead of me.”

“prat,” louis says through a tight jaw, trying not to chuckle. “you know what i mean.”

harry nods. “yeah, he was a little rough. i can take care of myself.”

“you shouldn’t have to,” louis clarifies. “you’re barely seventeen.”

harry shrugs. “been doing it for years, why stop now?”

louis’ body tightens up like a boa constrictor has gotten itself wrapped around his chest cavity and is tugging, tugging on all the bits there. “will you stop shivering?” he asks in aggravation.

harry chuckles. “yeah, sure. just lemme find my off switch.”

“fucker,” louis says, “get over here.” he extends his arm across the back of the seat like he’s already at the cinema and is trying to get to second base on harry. his stomach does flips when harry accepts and shuffles over so his hip tucks neatly into louis’ side. he snuggles into louis’ side and louis can’t even feel how cold his skin must be through his own trench coat, but he wishes he could just for the privilege of skin on skin contact. he’d take harry’s ice cold fingers on his arm, rubbing up and down for show, like louis is cold too when he’s not, over the blockade of his jacket anyday.

“better?” louis asks finally, looking down at harry’s head leant back on the seat while his hand rests over louis’ stomach, sitting there as if it were normal. louis wishes it were. harry keeps rubbing louis’ arm in some backwards hope that he might warm his own hand up by repeatedly touching it to louis’ arm.

“yeah,” harry answers. “’s good.”

louis wishes the drive home was longer.

-

the cinema they go to the next weekend is nice and aged - something sort of regal, louis thinks. he wants to write a poem about it’s red velvet curtains, different levels of seating. the past week with harry has gone, actually, pretty well.

it’s scary to louis how close he’d come to shipping harry away just like his mum had done in a fit of desperation, and how much he’d really considered it. now he still has harry sleeping in his bed every night, but it’s a work in progress louis isn’t actually working on. he hates how much he loves seeing the shadow of harry’s wavy hair on the pillow beside him, the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes to sleep. and he loves to hate waking up and squinting into the sun while he can feel the bed dip, see out of the corner of his eye harry’s arm stretching above his head, long and lean.

the line to the snacks is short, louis doesn’t even have time to pick out what kind of drink he wants before he gets to the front. he makes niall cut him in line so he can take another minute. harry snickers beside him, clearly enjoying louis’ indecisiveness.

“want anything else?” louis offers harry. he’s holding the popcorn in his arm and some threatens to spill over the sides. niall comes up from behind him and helps the effort to prevent this by taking a huge handful for himself. louis rolls his eyes.

“nah,” harry says. “the drink’s enough.”

louis vouches silently to himself that he’s going to get his brother to eat. it’s been a long day and all he can remember harry eating for sure has been his breakfast eggs and maybe his soup at home. the kid needs to eat something else before the day is over with.

they file through several aisles, letting harry pick the place to sit. he gets one end to himself and liam get the other. in between harry and niall, louis sits feeling rather relaxed. that is, until the lights go down.

he can tell harry stiffens beside him, thinks maybe it’s just harry being used to good artificial lightning ever since he’s started sleeping in odd hours of the day and being without them is frightening to him. but that’s not it. maybe twenty minutes in harry is fidgeting, his legs going back and forth between being crossed or not. then, it’s his hands. they sit clasped in his lap, then they’re on louis’ arm rests, so he has to move his hands as well.

at the forty-five minute mark, harry dips his head in towards louis to whisper something about the film, but it’s not necessary, it’s nothing important. louis wonders if he has a hidden agenda. five minutes later he’s dipping his head back in to lean down in his seat so his legs dip out miles in front of him. his back slouches so far down his head falls evenly on louis’ shoulder.

louis feels like he should jitter a bit, push harry off ‘accidentally’, but maybe harry’s tired because the previous night he’d been tossing and turning in bed. and who was louis to stop the kid from taking a well-deserved nap?

harry’s head nuzzles his shoulder with feline like movements, nose sliding along the edge of his ear. louis squirms in his seat a bit, but thinks maybe harry is just a bit disoriented because of his sleepiness. barely three minutes later, with harry still occasionally nuzzling the crook of louis’ neck or his shoulder, harry shuffles up a little higher is his seat.

his nose skims louis’ neck, like he’s smelling it for cologne that isn’t there, then slowly his mouth brushes lightly across louis’ chin. louis shifts, hoping it will alert harry in his only partly conscious brain that he’d doing something unknowingly.

it does nothing at all to hold harry back. his tooth digs briefly into louis’ pulse point and louis begins wondering how much of this was premeditated. was this going to become a reoccurring thing - being molested in public places where it was hard to cause a scene? in the dark and quiet crowd of people playing close attention to the screen, being loud or forceful about getting harry to back off would be more than socially awkward. it would be a disaster.

louis hopes harry is planning on stopping soon, before this gets too out of hand. his tongue jets out and licks a line up louis’ neck, and he shivers slightly, tries to straighten out his back and look more natural.

he wants to punch niall in the shoulder and tell him what’s going on, but that would be a terrible idea. louis doesn’t want even the smallest of chances taken in regards to this situation. harry is slowly but surely setting a bruise onto louis’ neck. open-mouthed little snuffles of hot air on his pulse point and then a short, tumultuous collection of kisses.

louis squirms again, his thighs clenching. what could he possibly do, short of shoving harry off, without alerting niall to his current predicament? he feels a wandering hand skim his knee and pushes it off quickly in the dim light. harry’s hand reaches for his thigh, sucking on his older brother’s neck, and louis moves to shake it off again.

harry’s mouth moves more furiously and he’s grasping louis’ knee so he can keep in one place and not slide back down in his seat. louis involuntarily tips his head back, and harry basks in it, mouth nearing closer and closer to louis’ as his kisses move from behind louis’ ear back to his chin. finally, louis’ other hand awkwardly dips into the popcorn bowl in his lap as he moves to push harry away and the popcorn tub goes tumbling over to the floor.

there is popcorn everywhere now - in niall’s shoes, in louis’ book bag from school. niall groans and bends over to flick some popcorn from his legs and harry snaps away, flattening out so fast along the back of his chair it sends a gust of wind over louis’ face.

for the rest of the movie louis can feel the spit on his neck drying and wants to wipe it off, but can’t, because it’s harry.


	7. part six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> louis is fundamentally stumped, at a loss as to why harry is allowed to be all the things louis wants, craves. louis wants to kiss someone who has nimble fingers with blisters from strumming and sit in someone’s lap who has a musky smell, hair thick enough to grab onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song harry plays guitar to and sings to louis is “hey” by the pixies.

the ground is slippery wet and shiny with puddles of rain in every crevice and when louis looks down to his feet he sees his own face reflected in the water like a mirror back at him. he looks a bit drunk and he feels it too, features finally calmed down and his usual feeling of anxiety dwindled down into a more comfortable, nonplussed feeling.

they’d just gotten out of the movies when liam suggested they head back to the lion and tiger to get a few drinks before calling it a night. louis hadn’t wanted to stay, was even considering telling niall to bring harry back with him when they were done drinking, but some part of him feared harry would cause trouble. he could only imagine hearing his phone ring at two in the morning, niall in a drunken slur explaining nonsensically how harry had been picked up by some bloke on a motorbike. so he tagged along and, despite his best efforts to be the responsible one, got pissed because he desperately needed a break.

niall absolutely loves louis when he’s drunk, totally takes advantage of his doped up head space and usually coaxes louis into doing something he regrets the next morning. in the past louis has woken up with bird feathers on his bed and dirt under his fingernails. he had told niall on the particular occasion that he feared he’d snuck out sleepwalking at night and rolled around on the ground in a chicken coop. turns out niall had taken louis to a department store late at night and they’d had a pillow fight after breaking in, spewing literally hundreds of feathers all over the floor and onto themselves.

fortunately they never got caught, but having the foggy memory of hopping up and down on a cardboard department store mattress with feathers stuck down his pants and scratching against his dick is punishment enough for a lifetime.

he’s an awful shameful drunk.

of course this has been his main concern building up to this night, hoping he not only does something stupidly illegal like the department store incident, but also that he does nothing stupid with harry - like, for instance, sucking his dick on the side of a busy street at night as cars go whizzing by. louis notices idly that the brick wall on the alleyway they’re trailing past near the liquor store looks nice and steady enough to push harry up against.

“lou, lou, you look out of your head.” niall is behind him, tugging him backwards so louis trips over his own feet and almost falls backwards on his own ass. niall is starved for attention when sober and absolutely insatiable for it when drunk, something that never ceases to amaze louis. he shakes niall off his back, but continues on his way down the street no worse for wear. he supposes he lets things that would normally aggravate him slide right off his back after he’s had a few drinks. probably the smartest thing for him to do when annoyed with niall would be to constantly drink, but then he has other things to worry about.

like, for instance, trying not to suck his brother’s dick. which has proven difficult on many an occasion, although louis is quite capable of not allowing himself to do so.

“do you think he’s going to be alright?” liam asks him, suddenly at his side, as quiet as a mouse. louis shakes his head back and forth a bit, trying to loosen up his brain so he can focus on what liam is asking him.

“oh, he’ll be fine.” louis throws one arm around liam, sighing. “maybe just humor him in the morning if he decides to take you on some sort of magic carpet ride.”

liam pinks, scanning over louis curiously. “like that time he woke up hungover and demanded we all go to the street fair together and get crepes on the way?”

louis nods slowly. “yes, except leave me out of it. tomorrow morning i plan to lay in bed and stay away from all of niall’s grand plans, especially any idea he’s gotten from a comic book.”

“i heard that!” niall bellows, dragging harry along as they try to catch up to liam and louis. he leaves harry’s side to grab liam by the waist. “just because you can’t appreciate aliens and robots and government artificial intelligence-“

“you’re artificially intelligent,” louis mutters.

harry squawks by his side, mouth dropped open in glee. he laughs silently for several seconds before grabbing louis’ arm and clinging onto it. “it’s cold, it’s so cold.”

louis side eyes him, trying not to wrap his arm around harry’s waist although he’d love to.

“yes, it’s winter.”

harry whines again. “can’t we call a cab? at this rate we won’t be home until summer.”

“well, then you won’t be cold anymore, will you?”

it’s of no use to argue because by this point liam has already pulled his phone out of his pocket and is calling a cab company.

they wait on the curb still quite close to the pub because it’s hard to make headway when you’re too drunk to see straight never mind get from point a to point b in any kind of rush. niall slings himself down in one heavy motion so he lands on the curb in a huff and pulls liam down by his shirt until he’s half in niall’s lap and half on the ground.

“fuck,” harry hisses. he’s rubbing at his shoulders, shaking again. louis would take pity on him and offer him his jacket but that would have two inevitably bad outcomes: for one he’d be freezing himself without it and for another that would look very suspicious to the other lads.

instead, he watches harry shiver, teeth clattering, for a few more seconds before finally swearing under his breath. he wasn’t so cold after all. he certainly wasn’t shaking. he moves to open up the lapels of his trench coat to hand it to his brother when harry looks to him with raised eyebrows. he takes the message in a way that louis hadn’t even considered himself.

snuggling up into louis’ chest, wiggling up to his older brother so that the front of louis’ trench coat wraps around his back, harry makes himself at home. he shakes into louis’ chest, his head stuffed down into louis’ neck, cowering. louis sighs and rubs at harry’s back from under his jacket, hoping liam and niall are too occupied chatting to notice.

by the time the cab arrives, louis has had harry cuddled up to him for so long that when he moves to jump into the heated vehicle, louis finds he’s actually freezing.

he sits up with the driver to avoid harry at all costs - doesn’t want to feel harry’s thigh pressed up his, doesn’t want his hand squished near louis’ back.

when louis goes to tip the cabbie, he chances a look at harry. his little brother’s lower lip protrudes fatly, pouting without meaning to. if louis could, if what harry was looking for was acceptable, he would give it to harry. he would give harry the world.

instead, he wearily shoves a tenner into the driver’s fist and breaks for the flat so quickly you’d think it was an olympic race to the finish line.

-

louis had figured they were all done drinking for the night, after all how much more drunk could niall get? he was already bellowing out the lyrics to teenage dream as liam skimmed his fingers over the strings of his acoustic guitar, playing along only half-heartedly because he was still half sober.

he’d been dead wrong.

louis even finds himself with a glass of his favorite brand of rum taken straight from his own bedroom and brought back out into the living room. harry gives him a knowing look, smug, as louis keeps the huge bottle tucked under his arm as he comes down the hall. he’s met with hands everywhere - niall to grab the bottle from him and take a swig right from it (“niall, have some fucking manners!”) and liam clapping him on the back.

when louis sits down on the couch next to liam he feels harry brush against him as he drops down to the arm of it, his bum so small (unlike his hands and his eyes and his biceps) that he could perch there easily. he cranes his neck over louis’ bottle of rum nosily.

“get your mug out of my rum, pet.” louis lets the bottle bang onto the table as he pours his first drink since they’ve been back at the flat. “you’re already sloshed enough.” harry sniffs like he’s cher from clueless, nose up in the air. “remember when you were twelve and you nicked dad’s wine for the first time and came home with hiccups so bad you couldn’t get rid of them for hours?” louis chuckles to himself.

niall and liam are in their own little world again. niall keeps whooping from the other end of the couch, pressed tight to liam, arms flailing out so far louis almost gets knocked ‘round on the ear. they aren’t going to hear anything.

“shut up,” harry says, a smile crossing his face. “you were jealous, anyway.”

“jealous?” louis asks in disbelief.

harry nods arrogantly. “you would have loved a spot of wine with your fancy fucking homemade chicken soup and-“

louis frowns. “just what are you insinuating?”

“call me pet again and i’ll tell you,” harry teases with his pupils seemingly overtaking his irises. the murky green is just a thin ring around the gaping black holes in his eyes, eyelids drooping over them lazily.

“off to bed, then, if you’re going to be so vile,” louis suggests with a wave of his hand.

harry snorts. “you’re all sitting on my bed, you git. just where am i supposed to sleep, your room?”

louis flinches, although he has no idea why. truth be told, after zayn’s died, harry’s been more often than not sleeping in louis’ bed. “no, no, just taking the piss.”

at some point liam resigns his guitar to harry, who flashes louis a grin, finally able to back up his claims at being able to play. louis keeps a close eye on harry’s fingers as they dip down to slowly brush against each string. his knuckles look bony and shiny with sweat. louis wants to bite them.

“sing something, then,” niall yelps as if he’s actually at a noisy bar many, many yards away from harry when, in reality, he’s right next to him. by this point louis has moved to distance himself from harry to the one spare armchair and is slowly feeling drowsy enough to fall asleep to hopefully not have nightmares about harry’s sweaty forehead and lazy, hooded eyes. his head hits the back of the chair and he can feel himself weakening.

“sod off,” harry says in annoyance. “can’t sing.”

louis sighs in relief because, on the off chance harry really can sing, he doesn’t want to have that one more thing on his mind.

niall sneaks harry a beer while louis is showing liam his newest set of kitchen knives - mail-ordered from a catalog - and harry does end up singing after all.

harry plays the song he’s told louis he could, voice dropping to absurdly raspy levels. every word from his mouth is far too thick and slow - the equivalent of honey or syrup in audio format - as he sings. “must be a devil between us,” he murmurs low into the room that louis thinks is losing air. “or whores in my head,” he goes on, looking to louis, and suddenly louis thinks of zayn and his motor oil smell, the sound of him crashing china in the kitchen early in the morning.

there is so much between them, anything you could think of was a barrier, something to put a damper on any and all progress they’ve made. every single time louis can touch harry’s back in a meaningless, simple way instead of over-thinking it and being so cautious it actually hurts, he feels like he’s pushing past a wall.

but the truth is, for every wall louis pushes past to get to the point where harry is his brother and nothing else, harry pushes past three to get to the point where louis can no longer tell himself it’s true.

harry stands up, showing off some, maybe. niall is clapping, nodding his head like it’s metallica and not the pixies while liam looks in awe, surprised at how good harry really is. louis is fundamentally stumped, at a loss as to why harry is allowed to be all the things louis wants, craves. louis wants to kiss someone who has nimble fingers with blisters from strumming and sit in someone’s lap who has a musky smell, hair thick enough to grab onto.

harry keeps making strides from niall back to liam as he sings - “said the lady to the man she adored and the whore’s like a choir” - but every time he nears louis he quickly spins back around on his feet, back facing him again.

louis wishes he wasn’t disappointed, but he is. he wants to see harry’s face contort as he sings, greedy even now after he’s already been allowed to see so much of harry when he knows harry has gotten to see very little of him.

by the time harry is practically whining out all the words - the repetitive part of the song -over and over again like a mantra, louis is sitting very still and silently. waiting for harry to finish so he can go back to being visible and harry will finally meet louis eyes and understand that there are unspoken rules and boundaries that need not be broken.

lines exist that harry likes to get near to and then quickly jump back from like a puppy growling at a full size dog thinking it wants to play until the older dog bites it’s hind legs and it changes it’s mind, scurries away with it’s head hanging low and it’s tail between it’s legs.

this time, harry isn’t playing. he moves forward easily, not his usual slow shuffle - all toes instead of flat-footed.

suddenly his legs are bumping into louis’ knees standing right in front of louis in his arm chair. louis’ mind blanks out completely when he thinks that maybe, just maybe, harry is about to get into his lap. but liam’s guitar is huge and bulky and that’s just no possible, the only plausible explanation for why harry is leaning in towards louis must be that louis has something on his face that harry is kindly about to brush off.

but harry’s legs are opening almost in louis’ direct line of vision and that’s not something louis is really okay with. the waistband of harry’s jeans are fraying and the zipper looms threateningly right in front of louis’ eyes for only a second before it’s suddenly harry’s eyes facing him after he’s lowered himself into louis’ lap.

he’s still single the “we’re chained” bit again and again, but it’s all lost on louis, who’s eyes cloud over. somewhere off in the distance, at least twenty light years away, is niall still cheering and liam laughing and clapping his knee.

harry’s legs are warm for once on top of his lap and the fact that his dick is so close to louis’ is making him squirm beneath harry, trying desperately to back so far into the chair he comes a part of the upholstery harry only edges forward, sliding forward so louis can see his tonsils when sings and feel harry’s ass lift off his lap and then come back down.

louis inhales fumes from the kitchen, or something else altogether, black smoke that traps itself inside his chest cavity and refuses to let him move. trapped, he realizes he has to wait it out.

harry’s fingers move easily up and down the guitar and louis wearily keeps his eyes on them instead of harry’s stupidly red cheeks or dilated pupils. he’d look at niall or liam instead, but harry is blocking them out. louis wonders if he’s doing it on purpose.

“you make a better door than window,” louis jokes with a cracking throat when harry finishes the song. harry licks his lips as he stares at louis, hands dropping down to slide up louis’ thighs.

“alright, mate,” niall is saying loudly, “we’re hitting the barley - or hay. which is it?” he looks to liam, confused. liam laughs and nods to louis once before tugging niall down the hallway as niall stumbles unhelpfully along with him.

when they’re gone harry is smiling wickedly, shuffling his hips around playfully. “how’d you like to fuck me in the same arm chair niall will sit in tomorrow to watch the morning news?” harry whispers with an eager laugh. he’s not even trying to be dirty, he’s genuinely excited, dimples in full effect. it catches louis off guard.

“harry, go to bed.” louis raises his hands to shove harry off, but harry quickly catches louis’ wrists and puts louis’ hands on his hips, pursing his lips.

“can i sleep in your’s?”

louis wishes they kept a gun in the house. he waits a moment, then nods. “get your kit off,” he commands. harry’s face splits into a grin. louis raises his eyebrows. “i meant, don’t fall asleep in your jeans and boots.”

harry sighs in defeat, finally slides off of louis and heads to louis’ bedroom. louis considers having a quick wank in the bathroom before he goes to bed, but he’s so drunk and hazy he thinks it’d be too much work. he has a wee, then ambles down to his bedroom at the end of the hall slowly, terrified of what awaits him. pushing open the door and peaking into the room, he sees harry already in bed, blankets up to his chin. louis’ sigh of relief is so heavy he thinks people in america would be able to hear it.

he goes about his normal nightly business, pulling his shirt up over his head, ducking into a blue stripped button-up for sleeping. then, the matching sleeping trousers. when he finally crawls into bed, trying not to disturb harry in case he’s already asleep, he has to reach across him to shut off his light.

they’re in the dark for all of fifteen seconds before harry is on top of louis, hands sliding up under louis’ shirt and unbuttoning it from the inside out. louis tries to dismantle harry, shuck him off with flailing arms, but harry starts muttering lowly.

“louis, please,” he whispers, “let me, just once.” he rolls his hips down and his hands scrape across louis’ tender stomach. louis brings his hand up to harry’s face, not knowing why, tipping up his chin. his face is blotchy, red in some places, and he’s panting.

“the blankets are so heavy,” he murmurs then lifts up so he can throw one back behind him. it’s so dark, but louis can make out harry’s abs in the dark and the pale skin just above his white jockeys.

when he leans back down, chest pressing to louis’, he’s whispering again. “i could fuck you through your clothes,” he says, and it goes straight to louis’ groin like he hadn’t wanted it to.

“shit,” louis croaks. “harry, god, go to sleep.”

harry’s fingers dig into his shoulder as he rolls his hips again, sticking his nose close to louis’ neck and nudging it like a puppy. louis groans, wants to wrap his arms around harry’s back and pull him closer, but he doesn’t.

“harry,” louis warns, “i don’t want this, alright?”

“really?” harry chuckles, “i think you do.” teasingly, he bites louis’ chin as he lets his hands trail down to louis’ hips. “lift them,” he instructs.

“excuse me?” louis snaps.

harry shrugs, then gets his hands around louis’ bum, pulling him closer involuntarily so their dicks press against each other through louis’ pants and harry’s briefs. harry’s hands are so hot on louis’ ass, he feels like he’s overheating. he tries to wiggle away from them, but it only means he’s so close to harry that his younger brother takes that as louis wanting to kiss.

harry shyly kisses louis in the dark, completely contradicting the dirty way he’s sliding his dick against louis’. louis tries not to groan.

“i would let you fuck me, you know,” harry says conversationally. “it’s not usually my thing, but i’d do anything you told me to.”

“then get off of me,” louis bites.

harry laughs. “except that.”

louis is about to punch harry in the arm or stomach, whatever’s closer, when harry takes his hands off of his older brother’s bum. louis thinks that this is it maybe, that harry must be realizing this is a horrible thing to be doing, and will never try it again.

harry’s hands sneak down to pull at louis’ trousers until they’re far enough down his knees for harry to meet his dick more properly with a thrust that ends louis in a broken whimper.

“no,” louis says, hoping he’s not about to cry.

“louis,” harry says in frustration. “don’t be sad, please, i only want you to be happy, all the time. i can see you’re not happy, you’re never happy.” it’s strange that he leaves the bedroom talk for some sort of important confession, but louis is almost used to never knowing what’s about to come out of harry’s mouth. “i could make you so happy, i promise, i’ll try forever. i’m not going to stop trying.”

louis’ eyes are welling up, but unfortunately his dick isn’t responding in the same way. he doesn’t even know if he’s actually sad or not, just can’t differentiate between all the things he’s feeling with harry above him, biting his lip and trying to win him over, with his dick still hard and so close to louis’.

“you’re the only person who’s important to me, okay?” harry asks. and with that, he’s moving so deeply back and forth on top of louis his shadow in the dark actually looks like he’s fucking somebody - louis.

louis squints his eyes shut, not knowing what he’s expected to do - lean backwards and pretend he’s not getting off on it when he clearly is or just give in. harry drops off his elbows to rest his chest on louis’ and presses small kisses under his chin, whining as his hips go crazy, rutting in his underwear into louis’ bare dick.

“fuck,” louis cries, wincing. harry’s hands reach back around to louis’ bum, pulling his hips up to meet his own again. louis tips his head back, unable to do anything but feel while harry is above him, gasping and turning his hips in small, shallow little circles.

harry’s fingertips trace in a barely there way around louis’ hole and louis’ hips snap up of their own accord into harry so that he sobs out in pleasure. harry ruts into louis a few more times before he comes, and then louis feels it through harry’s briefs. harry wraps one hand around louis’ dick as his other traces louis’ hole again and then louis is coming with tightly shut eyes, mewling. harry’s breath is hot on his neck until he finally falls back to his side of the bed, but tugs louis over so he can wrap his arms around louis’ waist and cuddle him.

louis can’t even begin to push him off now, he’s so tired.

he lets harry’s sleepy snuffling nod him off to sleep.

-

when the first rays of sunlight appear across louis’ bedroom he wakes up with crust in the corners of his eyes and he realizes, with virtually no dignity, that his sleeping pants are stuck at his knees still from the previous night.

harry is no longer tightly clinging to him. instead, his mouth is slightly open in sleep as his head is on his own pillow and his body is mostly on his side of the bed. louis lifts the blankets up to pull his pants back up and the bed smells vaguely like sex. he grimaces and throws his head back on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

harry wakes up a few minutes later, squinting past the light as he looks at louis sleepily. then, something dawns across his face that looks so morose louis immediately goes to tuck some of harry’s fringe behind his ear.

“what is it?” louis asks.

“zayn’s funeral is tomorrow,” he mutters, sighing.

louis nods, rubbing harry’s bare arms comfortingly until harry finally closes his eyes again.

maybe when he wakes up again it will be in a place where he hasn’t fucked around more than once with his older brother and the guy who he was dating isn’t dead.

somehow louis doubts it.

-

the funeral itself is not the nicest one louis’ ever been to. instead of having a nice ceremony in a heated building, after everyone leaves the grave site they all haul back to zayn’s father’s auto body shop. louis feels uncomfortable there, seeing all the heavy tools hanging within reach of any small child and, even worse, the enormous tires hanging from the ceiling by what appeared to be a few threads.

he still doesn’t know how zayn had died in here, but he knows it couldn’t have been pretty. he grips reassuringly onto harry’s forearm and doesn’t let him go until it’s been an appropriate amount of time of them standing around pretending to eat crackers before they leave with tears streaking silently down harry’s face.

louis hauls harry into his side when they get back into the car and wipes at harry’s face a few times before he takes him back home.

louis keeps thinking of how harry had looked at their mum’s funeral, dejected but not broken. now he’s curled in on himself beside louis, looking far worse. he begs the universe and all of it’s great wisdom not to allow one more funeral to surround their relationship. clearly, ever since they’d started to get closer in ways that they should never have, someone had died. and their mum’s death might as well have been a bad omen in itself, for everything both harry and louis would do to fuck each other up.

-

it’s only been another twelve or so hours before harry ends up missing. he apparently hadn’t made it to school and louis had gotten the call from the local police station close to midnight. he’d been gone for hours and hours and louis had been going crazy when the phone had rung shrill throughout the house.

liam was still at their place, his day off from the lion and tiger, watching louis pace with one hand running tightly through his hair. “louis,” liam had tried lightly, “maybe you should sit down.”

“fuck, what if he ran back off to see someone at his old school?” louis wondered aloud, yanking his hand through his scalp so tightly he thought he’d accidentally pulled out a chunk of hair.

he’d been in uni all day, sitting in the library studying, while harry was off doing god knows what after louis had sent him off to school the same morning.

driving up to the station was so nerve-racking louis’ hands shook on the wheel all the way there and when he stepped outside his car to shut the door, he almost shut his finger in it. he couldn’t believe this was happening again. the last time harry had been arrested was at least two years before.

what had he done? robbed a house? stolen something? gotten caught smoking pot somewhere in public? had he - god, louis could barely think it - hurt someone? forced sex on them? louis knew this wasn’t likely, but if harry was fine with half forcing sex on his own brother, just what would he consider doing to a stranger?

“what did you do?” louis asks harry when he sees him coming out, being pushed out by some tall man in uniform, hand on the back of harry’s neck.

harry shrugs with discomfort, eyeing the police officer louis had been speaking to about bail with a worried expression. louis sighs. figures he would go in thinking he was about to punish harry, really go out of his way to make sure harry knew he was disappointed.

and here he was now, glaring at the man in uniform for manhandling his younger brother and pulling harry tightly to his side, one protective arm coming up around harry’s waist.

“is that all?” louis asks the men at the desk with a rough voice.

he keeps harry pressed against him all the way to the car, ignoring the looks they get from many bulky tattooed men sitting around wearing handcuffs and all the young girls he sees leaning against walls with bright red mouths and dangly earrings chewing gum with handcuffs around their wrists.

drug dealers and prostitutes, louis guesses. how vile. he looks to harry, who’s avoiding catching his eye. he thinks about how he’d let harry basically fuck him less than three days prior.

who’s to say louis’ any better than one of the people sitting in that police station right now?


	8. part seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i don’t want you to go,” louis admits hotly, like it angers him he even has to say it, like it should be obvious. but everything louis says surprises harry because he has such a good poker face and never tells anybody what he’s thinking. he scrubs over his face with two hands, growling. “so, all you want is one fuck and you’ll never bother me again and i won’t have to ship you away? is that the deal?” harry’s face drops, all the color draining out of it. “one fuck and then we’re finally normal brothers?”

zayn’s funeral is horrible - zayn’s dad sticks himself in a corner even while everyone else shuffles around the auto body shop shaking each other’s hands. harry looks around slowly, remembering being pushed by his shoulders into a shelf and ending up with big red bruises from hanging tools running up his back, zayn tugging at the nape of his neck and then shoving him back into the wall with no remorse. it’s not a bad memory though, not as if harry hadn’t enjoyed himself. and as much as he loves louis and wants to spend every second by his side, he fears every single day that louis will never reciprocate and he’ll end up being no more to louis than some pervert forcing himself on his brother.

at least with zayn, no matter how much it hurt, he knew he was wanted and he was never afraid of zayn leaving him for someone smarter or more available. every time harry tries to touch louis, even just to brush by him to move from the kitchen to the living room, louis flinches and sloshes tea out of his mug.

a woman with zayn’s hair color and thickness leans herself against the disgusting bathroom door with duct tape over the door handle and harry has to turn himself around and find louis at the cheese and cracker table so as not to think about how many times zayn blew him inside that loo, then shared sloppy kisses against the sink, harry digging his hands into zayn’s tiny hips.

louis hugs harry to his side and whispers “pardon me” to squeeze them between a car suspended a few feet off the ground and the table of refreshments. the ride home is so quiet harry hears the roll of the tires and how louis’ foot nervously digs into the floor before he brakes at each light.

if harry had it his way, he would drop down and take a nap with his head in louis’ lap while he drives them home, but he can’t stand the possibility of louis pushing him away. louis is more than a sex object to harry, and more than a brother as well, and harry desperately wants louis to fall under every category he can.

he wants to introduce louis to someone as his wonderful older brother with his little horned-rimmed glasses and blazer, telling them louis is going to be a professor one day. but he also wants to take louis to a party and shove him in some stranger’s face and introduce louis as his best mate who would do anything for him and vice versa, bragging rights if for no other reason. not everyone has a louis, but harry does. everyone should be jealous that they don’t have someone like louis in their life.

lastly and most horrifyingly, harry wants to be able to call louis his boyfriend - or something better, something more final and special sounding, but the only thing he can come up with is _louis_ and he feels idiotic.

at the end of the day louis is his blood brother, and if it was up to louis, harry would probably be neither this nor any of the above.

harry wants to take the burden of catering to him away from louis for a night, so he looks around for some kind of party and eventually finds one.

it’s almost like he’s fucking everything up on purpose, but he has it in his head that maybe if harry had the means to move away, even if he had to stay in some drug den, louis might be happier just being able to carry on without the weight of having to deal with harry and his unpredictability on his shoulders.

-

zayn is around every corner at the party - this one isn’t even a teenage party, which is significantly worse. instead of simply rounding a corner and running into some girl with her bra half undone and some guy hanging off her trying to drag her half responsive body into an empty room, he sees guys in their late twenties tying off their upper arms with easy precision or giggling girls standing in the bathroom with the door open, heads bent over the sink and hair greasy with sweat.

this is all too familiar, he used to go to these kinds of parties with nick, except back then he wasn’t afraid of being drugged and mauled. nick had been overly protective and hysterical, constantly torn between punching someone for looking too long at harry and channeling lindsay lohan to dance on someone’s coffee table, mushing cigarette butts permanently into the glass. even half drunk and half stoned, nick knew within ten seconds if harry was in danger and came rushing to his side. not that harry can’t look after himself, just that regardless of his height, people still could sense how young he was and liked to taunt him and try to pressure hard drugs on him.

harry has been at this party for maybe fifteen minutes, just keeping to the outskirts and trying to drink his beer in peace when he’s propositioned by some guy in his mid-thirties with a pill bottle of something harry can’t read in the limited amount of light. he laughs at first, but the guy sways on his feet like he’s going to keel over dead asleep, so harry shrugs and follows him upstairs. he probably shouldn’t be leaving this guy alone, just in case.

seeing shadows on the walls as they traipse down the hallway upstairs, harry sees zayn’s spaghetti noodle legs and tiny waist. when the guy throws himself flat on the bed and starts telling harry about how his girlfriend is a whore who left him for his best friend, harry only sees zayn peeling off his jacket and patting his lap for harry to climb on.

turns out the guy isn’t looking for sex, just someone to share peaceful chatter with, or maybe someone to make sure he doesn’t overdose. either way, harry stands at the ready, chasing down a pill with the remnants of his beer.

the bedroom is so dark harry can barely see his hand in front of his face. he falls asleep on the bed next to the guy, both of them comfortably numb, and the next thing harry knows is he’s being yanked out of the room roughly by his collar.

he trips so clumsily over at least five girls being tugged down the stairs by two cops that he’s sure he’s just kicked one or two in the stomach. he thinks his shoe might have puke on it from coming into contact with one of the unconscious girls, unless it’s just mustard or something, but he’s being pulled so quickly he can’t stop and look.

he’s pretty sure he knows where he’s going and he doesn’t put up a fight.

-

“my brother,” harry answers when he’s asked who will come to pick him up. his head hangs low to his chest, trying not to look directly at the officer speaking to him. he hates authority figures, the more highly regarded in society the more he hates to be within one hundred feet of them.

“oh, yeah?” the officer asks. “is he an underage drug user too?” he chuckles and elbows another cop beside him before meandering away with his fat ass swaying away from harry and up to a desk, where he shoves a clipboard under some woman’s face to sign. she’s wearing a tube top that looks like something from an early 90s hip hop music video and her red lipstick is smeared all over her chin. poor thing, harry thinks. she was probably brought up by a mother in the same situation, learning how to prostitute herself by thirteen. harry thinks he knows enough from his past friends to tell that just by the embarrassed way she scribbles her name.

when louis comes in, he’s wearing his trench coat again, tied tightly around his waist, looking like a lost male model straight from milan on his day off. harry sighs and looks over his dirty fingernails, black tee shirt with underarm sweat stains, and ripped jeans. he’s so out of louis’ league that even if they were born in separate countries, never mind by the same parents, harry would never have a chance.

louis is beautiful in an untouchable way, sees it’s not just some delusional harry has worked up by the way all the girls lined up inside look up at him in awe, eyes widening. one in particular, with long brown mane with too small of curls to be natural, wolf whistles, but louis doesn’t catch it. or if he does, he probably guesses there’s a cop who’s into bird watching indoors because the crazy thing about louis is is that he doesn’t notice people staring.

it’s strange being the outgoing one and having to cower next to louis, always forgets that louis is older than him because louis holds himself as if he’s the most disgusting specimen when he’s actually so perfect it’s surreal.

every bone in louis’ body must be pearly white and sparkly under all that flesh and blood, clean as a whistle. if you peeled back all of harry’s layers, his bones would probably look like chewed up turkey legs gnawed by wild dogs. he wants to smile at the mental image, but when one of the cops grabs at his neck and pulls him out of his trance and up to the front desk, he’s snapped out of it.

“is that all?” louis asks the men at the desk with a rough voice, one arm going out to slip his fingers into harry’s belt loop. harry wonders how much he had to pay and remembers the first time this happened, back when he was fourteen and his mother had to come pick him up. it was after a party on a saturday night, and to punish him, he had to wait until late sunday afternoon after church to be brought home.

he guesses she thought doing the walk of shame in broad daylight, traipsing up their driveway for all their neighbors to see, would put a damper on future similar occurrences actually what happened was their neighbors aiden and matt heard all about his one night in jail because news spread so fast and roared with laughter and mock applause from across the street until their father came outside and hit them over the head with a newspaper.

harry’s mother scowled and he’d never seen her look so disappointed by how little harry seemed to mind.

still, nothing compares to how rattled and shaken louis looks while he drags harry away from the seedy crowd. like harry needs protecting. if anything, louis needs protecting.

“what did you do?” louis’ forehead is all crinkled up and harry reaches up to swipe a finger over it, but louis makes a face and swats his hand away.

“broke into the zoo and let a few panthers free,” harry sighs. “and one baboon who said he would tell the maintenance workers if i left without him.”

louis shakes his head. “can you take anything seriously, ever?” he glares somewhere far off for a second before rounding his car and slamming the door after getting in the driver’s side.

“do you have any idea how horrible it was hearing from liam that you’d just disappeared?”

harry bites his lower lip and tucks a longer bit of hair behind his ear, getting into the car. “i’m sorry, lou.”

“you said you would really try.” louis doesn’t even look at him, both hands clenched on the top of the steering wheel. “or was that just a lie so you wouldn’t have to go back to boarding school?”

harry scooches closer to louis, the seat squeaking as he goes. “hey,” he mutters, “i just - i figured you’d be happier after the funeral if i just got out of your way for a bit. i know this is all my fault-“

“what?” louis bites. “are you serious? so this was your idea of doing me a favor, is that what this is? i should be so lucky to get favors like this more often.” louis juts out his lower lip with his teeth bared, condescending. “maybe if i play my cards right, next week i’ll get to pick niall up at jail for a robbery.”

“no, jesus!” harry says, lifting up a hand to slow him down. “look, i know it was stupid and i didn’t mean to worry you.” he twists his hands in his lap, grimacing. “maybe you’re right, maybe you should send me back.”

“send you back, just like that? like a package that got shipped to the wrong house?”

“well, i don’t know! you tell me! i’m the child here, aren’t i?”

louis’ face splits into something cruel and almost unrecognizable to harry, a jack o’lantern carving. “i don’t know, harry! are you?”

“no!” harry spits. “i’m not a fucking child, is that what you want me to say?”

“yes, take some fucking responsibility!”

“fine! i take full fucking responsibility for the fact that i want to shag you!” harry shouts so loudly he forgets to see if anyone else is in the parking lot. “and it’s not a fucking joke and it’s not a fucking game, i just want you and i’m sorry.”

louis looks like he might cry, again, so easily, like there’s some switch only harry can flip in louis that instantly makes tears well up in his eyes. this time, though, they’re angry tears. “you are a child, this just proves it.” he shakes his head and quickly swipes under one eye, sniffing. “you think everything can be so simple.”

“am i doing this to you, louis?” harry asks, suddenly devastated he feels like a pregnant woman, constantly swerving in and out of emotions, one second angry and abusive and the next he’s fucking crying and pleading for forgiveness.

“because i’ll do anything you want, alright? do you want me to stay away from you forever? i’ll go back if you want me to and i won’t come home after i finish school.” harry trails off, licking his lips, but his face is wet from crying. he tries to choke back a sob and only manages to because louis covers his face up with his hands, so he can’t see his reaction. “i’ll move in with someone and get a job and never come back here again.”

“i don’t want you to go,” louis admits hotly, like it angers him he even has to say it, like it should be obvious. but everything louis says surprises harry because he has such a good poker face and never tells anybody what he’s thinking. he scrubs over his face with two hands, growling. “so, all you want is one fuck and you’ll never bother me again and i won’t have to ship you away? is that the deal?” harry’s face drops, all the color draining out of it. “one fuck and then we’re finally normal brothers?”

harry can’t keep his thoughts straight, so many things rushing through his head. if this is it and he never has the chance again lest he full-on attacks louis in his sleep, then he can’t very well pass it up. but how in the fuck does louis think one time will solve every childhood problem that lingers and every horrible thought either of them have ever fleetingly had? chances are one time will make things one thousand times worse, so bad they’ll never be able to repair it. but in that case, harry would probably have to leave again. and in the case that harry passes up the offer right now, he has to leave anyway, because he can’t control himself and can’t be around louis without making them both go mad.

there’s no choice here. it’s yes and move back to the mountains or no and move back to the mountains. harry wants to take a moment selfishly to himself and cry because he can’t understand how everything became so inevitable so quickly, how it got to this point, even though it’s entirely his fault.

“harry, come here,” louis chokes. harry thinks louis wants a hug, but when leans in to wrap his arms around louis’ back, he gets dragged by one tight fist to the back of his shirt until one of his legs is between louis’ and the other is hitched up on the seat. half his back presses into the steering wheel and the other half is out on a limb, skewing him sideways and apt to fall over at any minute.

louis puts either hand on harry’s hips to steady him and harry has definitely not noticed how big louis’ biceps are, which is ridiculous because he’s always staring at him. harry feels one tear edge past his lips, barely enough to taste the salt, before he notices he’s the one crying this time, not louis. he supposes it’s quite funny how reversed this is compared to the past two times. maybe this is finally louis’ breaking point, only it’s bittersweet because it might be the last time he’ll ever see louis so happy to have harry in his lap.

or maybe happy isn’t the right word for it, because the harsh way louis’ eyes are set on harry’s mouth isn’t happy and neither is the way his leg snaps up so harry slides further up on his older brother’s lap. it’s more than predatory, it’s almost frightening how louis seems to calculate the way harry is stranded, trapped between louis’ chest and the steering wheel. if the car burst into flames right now, they would both burn to death because there is no fast way to wiggle out of this one.

harry still wants to wrap louis up in blankets and press little kisses all over his face, but this time it’s not his call, so he tries to stay still and not let his hips snap up when louis attaches himself to harry’s neck and uses his hands to press harry backwards so his head hangs over the steering wheel.

“this isn’t the chair niall will sit in tomorrow to watch the news, but will you still ride me here?” louis murmurs, sickly sweet, like he’s just asked harry to accompany him to paris.

harry grinds himself down into louis’ lap, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping. “i’ll settle.”

it’s not easy work tugging his jeans off. harry actually has to move back towards the passenger seat to get them to his ankles and he’s deathly afraid that in those few seconds louis will have changed his mind and will shove harry out of his car and leave him in the parking lot of the police station.

instead, louis bats harry’s hands away and unzips his jeans, then lets harry pull them down while he rips harry’s boots off and tosses them easily over their heads and into the backseat. harry wonders if louis’ ever had sex in this same position in his car before with some other older, smarter bloke, and wants to punch the windshield.

but then, louis crawls filthily above him, smirking, sticking his armpit in harry’s face to open up the glove box. when he comes back down with lube, he parts harry’s legs and slips his hand under harry’s boxers to use his already coated fingers. he’s quick and gentle, not so eager that harry isn’t already whining by the time louis is trying to find the best place to move harry.

with two fingers still up harry’s ass, louis seems to have forgotten they were there while he surveys the backseat. “not wide enough,” he mutters to himself.

harry whines again when louis absently curls his fingertips to the left, neck snapping back and almost hitting his head on the passenger side door.

louis twists his head down to the pedals on the floor, peeking around to check, for what louis assumes, is space requirements. apparently satisfied, louis slides his hand out of harry’s boxers and sits back up straight in his seat. beckoning for harry to climb back into his lap, harry raises his eyebrows. it might be a wider space, but it’s certainly too tight to be accommodating for harry’s back.

harry tries to fit in as closely as he can to louis, chest flush with his older brother’s and arms locked around his neck so he’s not pressed into the steering wheel again. his boxers are off, he realizes, confused. louis must have pulled them off while harry was too preoccupied with louis’ fingers to notice. louis is still fully dressed with harry writhing around in his lap and harry has never felt like more of a slut.

there were times when harry would let nick fuck him on his desk at school, but never during actual school hours and certainly not in the fucking parking lot of a police station. even worse, anyone could come by and off chance see them through the windows even at this time of night.

louis pants while harry mouths at his neck and slides his hands down harry’s ass, lifting him a little further back so he can reach down and unbutton his classy fucking navy school trousers. harry hasn’t ever had a good look at louis like this before and he’s so turned on he can barely keep from speeding up the process himself. the first time something happened harry barely had a hand on louis before he came in his pants and the second time they just moved together, easy and comfortable.

harry’s always liked fucking quite a bit more than being fucked, but the eager way louis is pulling himself out of his trousers makes his head spin. harry finally gets his knees onto either side of louis’ legs and manages to mostly sit himself on louis’ dick before louis chuckles and helps slide him down, grunting as he does so.

for a second, louis is lost, head rolling back silently and eyes fluttering shut. for that second, harry admires the pretty shade of red louis’ face goes and how there’s sweat on his neck. then that second has passed and harry’s throat closes to a whimper because louis is letting his hips snap up shallowly, ducking down to nip harry’s neck.

harry’s legs soon ache from keeping them upright, his knees tense sitting with his back free to sway with nothing to keep him steady as louis fucks him. harry starts to rock his hips downwards as much as he can in the tight space, hanging his forehead on the headrest of louis’ seat. his sweaty fringe hangs down over his eyes and he squeezes them shut and tries to open his legs up the most he can to let louis do as he pleases.

when harry slips one arm down to brace himself on the door handle so he can filthily lift up off of louis and then slide back down, his hand brushes past a lever and he nearly cries he’s so relieved.

he pulls it up so quickly he’s lying horizontally on top of a flattened-out louis in a nanosecond, laughing into louis’ sweaty neck before he turns in his nose to breathe him in and lick up a stripe. before long, harry’s hips start moving again naturally as he’s still chuckling a little. louis’ grin drops when harry moans, sitting back up to ride louis.

louis’ back lifts off the flattened-out driver’s seat and arches closer to harry, mouth dropping open. harry digs his fingernails into louis’ wrists and shoves himself down so hard his eyes almost roll back. “are you holding me down?” louis asks in disbelief, grinning again. he’s never looked so beautiful, panting and teeth shining in the dark.

“yeah, s’pose,” harry stutters, lifting up off and falling back onto louis’ dick.

“kinky fucker,” louis laughs. and that’s what harry sees when he comes, louis laughing in the dark, crinkles around his eyes going even smaller.

with a few more shallow thrusts and harry clenching his legs tighter around louis’ hips louis is done as well, finally tugging harry back down so harry’s nose rubs up against the still wet bit of skin on his older brother’s neck he’d been kissing.

“you’re so perfect,” harry rasps.

louis snorts, but brings one arm over harry’s back in the dark and bites his shoulder. “you bloody brat. do you expect me to trust words coming from someone freshly fucked?”

“drive me home and put me to bed like a gentleman,” harry orders. “you could have just taken my virginity, after all.”

louis pulls harry’s head back by his hair, making harry wince. “you’re kidding, right?” harry guffaws, breathing hot air onto his brother’s chest. louis slaps his bare hip, sighing. “nearly gave me a fucking heart attack, you sodding idiot.”

“what if you really had, though?” harry whispers.

louis grumbles and shoves a naked harry off of him so he can pull his seat back up and buckle back in still half naked, but harry can tell by how red his face gets that the thought is driving him mad. maybe it’s just knowing someone beat him to it, but harry doesn’t care. it’s nice to know it isn’t just him anymore. even if he’s only fucked harry out of anger or some twisted sort of jealousy, it’s better than nothing.

-

niall greets harry at the door with a high five, much to louis’ dismay. “first time in the slammer?” niall asks enthusiastically.

harry chuckles. “more like third. or fourth, i’m not sure.”

louis tips his head to the side. “how do you not remember?”

“well, the time i’m not sure about i was pretty drunk, so-“

“hey, you’re all sweaty!” niall notices, clapping harry on the back. “what, they couldn’t pay for air conditioning with all our tax payer money?”

louis sniffs. “you’re not a tax payer. if anything liam pays for your share of the rent.”

“oi, shut up!” niall yells. “just because your mum left you enough money to last you your life.”

“she did not,” louis snips, affronted. he unbuckles his trench coat (tied hastily in the first place in the lift on the way up) and hangs it up by the door. if harry isn’t mistaken, louis gets at least ten times as prissy when he’s around niall as he normally is. it’s almost as if he has to compensate personally for how overly masculine niall is.

niall chuckles. “you’re sweaty too, mate. what happened, below zero too hot for you?”

louis’ eyes widen, looking over his own body. he looks lost for a minute, then composes himself. “oh, yeah, i have a heater in my car. ever heard of one?”

“no need to be a bitch, i’ll be out of your way now.” niall sticks his tongue out and puts his hands on his hips to mock louis as he goes back to his bedroom.

louis reaches down to the floor and picks up one of harry’s stray socks and whips it at his back. “git!” he turns to harry. “it’s not like i’m fucking lance bass, am i?”

harry laughs loudly. “probably more zachary quinto.”

louis shrugs. “yeah, i’m alright with that. he’s fit.”

“don’t let liam hear that when he comes over tomorrow, he’s a big lance bass fan.” harry swipes at louis’ shoulder awkwardly and instantly regrets it.

he’s fucked everything up, hasn’t he?

“i’ve fucked everything up, haven’t i?” he blurts out.

louis shakes his head quickly. “no, just - no.” he glances from harry’s couch to the hallway melodramatically. harry is about to ask him if he wants to be walked to his bedroom door, like a fourteen year old girl on her first date being dropped off back at her parents’ place, when louis turns down the hall without saying a word. harry sighs defeatedly and starts peeling his sticky shirt back off, even has it halfway over his head when louis turns back and gives him an odd look.

“you coming to bed?”


	9. part eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> really the past few days have felt like a month vacation from reality, waving off niall in the morning as he would go out for job interviews and then going back to bed, cuddling and dry humping like rabbits. harry has louis’ orgasm face ingrained in his mind like a projector slide and after it gets a little grainy as he starts to forget after a of couple hours without sex, louis will climb into harry’s lap again and harry will get a refresher course.

harry is dancing around louis’ bedroom in his boxers, sliding around in wool socks, when niall comes home. he slams the front door so loudly louis’ record player wobbles on it’s little table where harry was playing louis’ wavves album. louis isn’t home, he’s gone off to the grocery store because harry and niall had begged him to replenish their supply of cheese so they could make omelettes.

walking out into the living room, harry notices what a fucking mess it is. he supposes it’s mainly his own fault because god knows it wasn’t louis’. and liam hanging around as much as he had been meant niall had been showering and doing his laundry on a fairly impressive basis. harry trips over a plate on the floor with half a grilled cheese sandwich on it. he chuckles and picks it up with one hand, sits next to niall on the couch.

“found a bit of cheese if you’re still interested in omelettes,” harry jokes dryly.

niall looks up at him with creased eyebrows, but says nothing.

“five pounds if i take a bite?” harry asks, elbowing him. nothing. “what’s going on, mate?”

niall sighs deeply, lounging backwards with his legs obscenely opened, hand naturally resting on his dick. harry would laugh, but under the circumstances, he trains himself back to actively listening.

“i really fucked up.” he shakes his head remorsefully. “i’m such a git. look at me, harry, how old do i look? twenty or fourteen?” he pulls at his white tank top. “still drinking and driving like a child. i don’t deserve liam - i don’t deserve a homeless man.”

“is liam upset with you, then?” harry asks, cringing. he can’t even imagine liam yelling, or even glaring for that matter.

niall snorts. “what do you think?” he pulls harry’s blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it around his shoulders. harry thinks maybe he should rub his back or something, but that might be where louis comes in. “i drove his fucking car into a tree. a big tree as well, proper monster branches jutting out right into the windshield, barely missed my bloody eyes.”

“because you were drinking?”

“well, i wouldn’t driven his car into a tree for the hell of it, would i?” he snaps. then, he winces and pats harry’s knee awkwardly. “sorry. it’s just that i have no income, you know? so liam has to fix a problem i caused.”

“maybe you could get a job part time?” harry suggests weakly.

“i’d probably spend all my money on booze and come time to get my paycheck still not even be able to cover all the dents.” he laughs humorlessly “i can barely afford a screw.”

“good thing you have liam, then.” harry bites his lip, waiting for a laugh. it doesn’t come. he fishes through the couch cushion below him, digging his hand through loose change and crumbs to find his baggie of spliff. he chucks it into niall’s lap and stands up, pulling a tee shirt on he’d found under the coffee table.

“i’ll order chinese, yeah?”

-

louis comes home to a room so engulfed in smoke he bats his hands through it to guide himself to the unoccupied armchair. niall giggles at the sight of louis tripping over harry’s boots on the way over and blows smoke out calmly from his mouth while looking half asleep. the chinese cartons are scattered on the coffee table and louis shrugs to himself, pulling one into his lap sitting cross-legged and resting it in his lap.

“why is blondie so upset?” louis asks softly.

frankly, harry is surprised he hasn’t said anything about the smoke. he clears his throat. “how can you tell he’s upset?”

louis points to his hands. “he’s been fucking about with them again, picking at the skin.”

“i think he’s asleep now,” harry guesses. he pries the spliff from niall’s tight grip and drops it’s remains back into the empty baggie.

“why don’t you put the blanket on him and let him sleep out here tonight?” louis reluctantly rises from the armchair and beckons harry to follow him. “i’m going to finish my dinner in bed, do you mind?”

harry gapes. what’s happening to louis? he’s thrown caring about cleanliness and organization out the window.

louis looks at him oddly. “what, is that a problem?”

“no,” harry laughs. “it’s cute,” he adds before he can stop himself. louis’ flushes before he turns around and makes his way down the hall. harry is still adjusting to this - not exactly the sharing of louis’ bed because they’ve been doing that on and off ever since zayn died. the real difference is that it’s a bit unpredictable and although harry loves surprising louis with compliments and breathy whispers, it’s so scary when louis does it that harry clams up and just stares wide-eyed at his older brother unable to retort.

louis crawls under the covers with his clothes still on, only bothering to first take out his contacts and stick on his glasses. he uses his chopsticks with concentration, not realizing harry’s watching until he looks up once he’s finished.

“have you just been sitting there watching me eat chicken lo mein for ten minutes?” louis asks calmly, disapproving look with his eyes peeking out from his glasses.

harry laughs. “was i supposed to look at the walls?”

“you’ve got a point,” louis shrugs with a pleasant, secretive little smile. “maybe you should move some of your stuff in here.”

harry wrinkles his nose. “what stuff? like my chemistry book and my deodorant?”

“brat.” louis nods towards his closet. “i’ve taken the liberty of starting the process for you.”

harry dreads getting up to check. he’s quite afraid there will be a living person in there, maybe somebody from his old school, which would all together be an awful idea. but louis glares threateningly enough to send shivers down harry’s spine, although still sexy with his little rectangular frames on.

he slides open the closet door. leaning up against the back wall, in between louis’ slippers and louis’ boxed collection of flowered writing paper, is a beautiful and brand new acoustic guitar. it’s neck is graceful and lengthy, it’s strings look tight and perfect. shiny and black, light to pick up and carry to bed before he jumps his brother.

“you’re not serious,” harry murmurs into louis’ neck as he has him pinned down to the bed, squeezing his arms around louis’ waist. louis laughs deeply and slides his hand up harry’s back under his tee shirt, docile and comfortable. easy. maybe the change in louis’ demeanor is a good thing, a way for him to let himself relax a bit.

“i love you, you’re the best.” harry kisses louis’ neck so hard he thinks his teeth might have slipped out. he comes to the conclusion he’s right as louis wiggles beneath him, sharp little inhale. harry giggles merrily, clutching at his brother’s hips. he wonders how far he could push this.

“bite me?” louis asks softly, exposing his neck and grinning. harry looks down at him in awe. “if that’s all you wanted, you didn’t have to go and buy me a guitar as a bribe.”

louis hums delicately, but runs his nails teasingly up and down harry’s back. “do you ever feel like a heathen, with niall just out there?”

harry shrugs. “it’s your flat, lou. and i don’t - i don’t look at it like we’re participating in some kind of immoral, law-breaking activity.” he smiles despite himself. “it’s not that complicated, really. i just want to be with you.”

louis sighs, content. “you’re far too much. it’s so wonder i didn’t take advantage of you sooner.”

harry playfully slaps louis’ hip. “just because i’m younger doesn’t mean it works that way.”

louis tips his head to the side, blinking slow. his face tightens, hand going up to grip harry’s arm. “do you think that bothers me?”

“well - it’s just that ideally, really, you should be with someone with a job and sleeping with someone who’s-“

“do you see a bouncer here?”

harry laughs giddily into louis’ chest. “never mind. i’m going to become a hit man anyway and then i’ll be so rich i can buy you a castle bigger than the queen’s.”

“that’s very sweet of you, darling, but i’d like you to suck me off now.”

harry cackles, then makes a show of sliding down louis’ body to get to his dick. “do you like to be bitten there too?”

louis scoffs and slaps harry upside the head. harry’s never felt so free.

-

now that louis has decided he’s done with shoving harry off of him at every given chance and seems more than happy, finally, to reciprocate, there’s just not enough time in the day to do all the things they normally would do. like, for instance, doing the dishes. or vacuuming. or attending class. or bathing. or eating.

really the past few days have felt like a month vacation from reality, waving off niall in the morning as he would go out for job interviews and then going back to bed, cuddling and dry humping like rabbits. harry has louis’ orgasm face ingrained in his mind like a projector slide and after it gets a little grainy as he starts to forget after a of couple hours without sex, louis will climb into harry’s lap again and harry will get a refresher course.

of course it’s becoming increasingly harder, instead of easier, with time to hide it. niall has almost walked in on them sharing a shower on two separate occasions and the last time he came home early from an interview to get advice from louis, harry was naked in his bed waiting for him to come back with toast and jam. harry had been able to pull the covers up around himself just quickly enough to disguise this.

that day when niall heads off, they leave louis’ bedroom for the first time in days. harry blends strawberries and bananas together with ice cream and louis starts to pick up the house a bit - hauling huge garbage bags full of old food left on the counter-tops and a basket for all of harry’s dirty clothes.

louis sits himself up on the counter to clean out a higher shelf, harry coming up to rest one of his hands on louis’ knee while the other reaches up to open the cabinet door. quickly, they forget about cleaning and making a light breakfast in order for louis to wrap his arms around harry’s neck and suck on his tongue.

harry lets louis gradually kiss him less and less as he almost without realizing it begins to scissor louis, knocking him out of his stupor and turning him twitchy and shaky first, it’s just one finger and louis barely reacts, but by the third, his head is knocking backwards on the cabinet door and he’s digging his nails into harry’s shoulders, teeth bared.

“harry, this is torture, can you just do something already, i mean-“

harry crooks his fingers a little more sharply and louis squirms an inch off the counter-top and into the air. then he sits himself back on harry’s fingers and winces, eyes wide.

“do you want me fuck you?” harry asks softly, leaning his forehead to louis’ and biting his lip.

louis nods with a little sweat separating his fringe strand by strand. “god,” he puffs out. “maybe i’m becoming immune to orgasm.”

purposefully, as if it was a challenge, harry rolls his hips closer to louis with his dick just beginning to slide inside, barely having slipped in, making louis go breathless. louis’ dick rubs against harry’s lower stomach while harry presses him sharply into the cabinets. his legs instinctively wrap around harry’s waist and harry keeps his hands under his older brother’s thighs, tracing the hair there, to keep him upright as he shakes.

louis keeps kitten licking by harry’s ear and tugs on his hair at the nape of his neck just how harry likes it until harry comes, hips rolling in slow and deliberate as the sweat on his lower back moves to his ass, where louis’ other hand rests, fingernails digging in again.

harry pants while louis watches cheerfully. “okay, pull out,” he says with a smile. “i want my smoothie.”

harry shakes his head, grinning. he rolls back into louis deeply once more for the hell of it, hips snapping up harshly. oversensitive, louis’ breath hitches and he whimpers, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. “out,” he groans, “jesus.”

louis sits down in his normal spot at the kitchen table, except naked, and harry smiles widely, teeth blindingly white after him, slouching in the chair opposite him in his joggers and beanie.

it takes a long while and a lot of smoothies to work back up the motivation to finish cleaning.

-

the day eleanor starts calling again is the day liam starts spending the night with niall like they used to when they’d just become a couple. they’re practically joined at the hip, niall tugging liam around by his waist from room to room as they try to find niall’s missing address book with his new boss’ email in it. he’s working at a computer graphics programming company.

eleanor calls louis to ask if he’s alright and why he’s missed four days of class in a row. louis cringes into the receiver and tells her he has a bout of stomach flu, adding in a fake hacking spell so loud eleanor makes a surprised little “oh!” sound into the other line.

harry bats at louis for attention throughout the entire call, winding his arms around louis from behind him, keeping him walking in place while louis tried to get to the living room. louis shakes harry off of him, trying not to laugh as harry tickles his side in the middle of his fake sneeze, promptly apologizing to eleanor for ending the call, but he’s sure he “feels bile coming up in his throat”.

he hangs up and tosses the phone down onto the couch, turning to harry and shooting him a disapproving look.

“nice performance.” harry only looks amused, collapsing onto the couch himself and beckoning louis to sit on his lap. louis refuses out of self respect and only silently agrees to resting his legs across harry’s lap.

“i’d like to thank the academy,” he retorts dryly.

coming from niall’s bedroom, they hear somebody singing and playing the guitar. harry perks up, probably trying to decipher the song.

“you and liam could start your own band,” louis suggests wisely, “you know, just in case the hit man thing doesn’t work out.”

“oh, yeah, better safe than sorry, right?” harry nods very seriously.

“of course.” louis picks up a book from the coffee table and flips it open to where the bookmark is. “i expect my castle by the time i’m thirty-five. i think that’s fair.”

harry’s mouth drops, “is that a fact?” he’s been imaging spending the rest of his life with louis ever since the first morning he got there, getting to be woken up every day by a scruffy louis, matted bed head and stubble.

louis hums, kneading his toes into harry’s leg.

-

liam isn’t really how harry thought he was. when harry first met liam, he seemed a little cross and judgmental but it was strange, he never seemed that way with niall. harry watches them interact in intervals because most of the time he’s looking at louis and that in itself takes up quite a bit of his time.

it is amusing though, to watch niall pull out the chair for liam for breakfast, even better to watch niall flick butter from a spoon up at liam’s cheek and then lick it off. breakfast is probably harry’s favorite part of the day, except for lights out when louis sneaks harry into his bedroom as soon as niall and liam have left the living room.

breakfast is great because harry makes the smoothies, liam sets the plates, louis makes the omelettes, and niall does nothing and pretends he knows better than everyone else does. telling harry he’s making the smoothies wrong is pointless because harry ignores him, but he always gets a rise out of louis. when niall tells louis he’s putting the incorrect amount of tomatoes in, louis snaps almost in an instant - kicking his leg out into niall’s shin. then, niall hobbles towards liam and tells him nobody likes those ugly knives he’s putting out - and why is he the only one around here with good taste - and liam drags him by the neck to the tv and sits him down in front of it.

harry used to have fleeting moments of sadness when he first got here - missed his group of friends back at school, shit as they were because they were so unreliable, but still. worse yet, it was hell being ripped away from nick. he has traded nights spent hopped up on drugs and having nick do jello shots off his stomach to nights sitting awkwardly with louis and niall on the couch, listening to conversations he didn’t know enough about to take part in.

but now, this was his small, functional family. most of the time, he doesn’t even think of any of them anymore, but sometimes when he’s in the shower he glances down at his anchor tattoo, thumbs over it, and wonders what nick’s doing that very moment. he’s only spoken to him a handful of times over the phone since he left and nick’s dating some guy his own age finally - somebody named olly, for christ’s sakes.

harry looks up from his plate of toast and his omelette and catches louis staring at him, laughs and kicks him gently under the table, and shakes his head. who cares who nick’s dating now? harry’s been waiting his entire life to be close to louis like he always knew they were supposed to be.

-

maybe it was just a coincidence but later that night louis self-consciously brings it up, leaning into himself and angled away from harry in his navy silk pajamas. harry tells the truth because there’s no reason for him to lie.

“got it with my ex-boyfriend a year ago,” he says calmly. “he has the sailboat.”

louis nods to himself. “did it hurt?” he asks suddenly.

“no,” harry laughs, “not really. but i squeezed his arm so bad when i was getting it that there were marks left afterwards. you don’t have any?” harry asks and feels moronic instantly.

louis snorts, “you would know if i did.” he looks sort of sad.

“can i ask about stan?”

“he didn’t have any either,” louis jokes, but there’s something shut off in his expression that stops harry from asking anything else. louis chuckles, looking at harry oddly. he folds his arms loosely over his chest. “i can’t believe how weird you’ve been lately. you know i’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“will you?” harry asks in surprise. “it’s just that - niall made it sound like things were so good with the both of you before, but you sound like - is there something else to the story?”

louis sighs. “he wasn’t very good with long term relationships.”

“meaning?”

“he cheated on a few occasions.” louis pauses. “with a few different people.”

harry balls his fist up. “that’s shit.”

louis shrugs. “it is what it is.”

“did you know all along?” harry fists the comforter so he doesn’t actually punch something. there’s something so rage-inducing about the idea of louis - so trustworthy - being taken advantage of and walked all over by someone with no guilt or sense of wrong doing.

“i suspected,” louis admits with a wince. “the second year we were together i let it slide a few more times because it seemed like he didn’t remember doing it, so i didn’t blame him. most of the time, i think he hooked up with guys while he was drunk, but-“

“you don’t have to tell me,” harry says. “it’ll just make me angrier.”

louis laughs. “harry, that’s how most adult relationships work these days. most relationships are open. niall and liam had an open relationship for a long while before they closed it off and got serious.”

“i don’t know how they lived like that,” harry admits, “constantly wondering if your boyfriend is with someone else - not even sex, but everything, like-“

louis yawns and snuggles closer to harry, sliding his leg in between harry’s to signal bed time, but harry is too worked up now to sleep. “you’re seventeen, sweetheart. you have a lot to learn.”

harry frowns. “lou, not to be weird, but i think if i saw you with someone else i’d want to kill them. just slightly.”

“then i guess i have a perfectly respectable reason to deny eleanor dinner next time she asks,” louis says easily.

“don’t go out with her again.” harry wraps his arms around louis’ back and rests his chin on louis’ shoulder. “blood runs thicker than water, right?”

louis groans. “that’s filthy.”

harry laughs. “suppose it is.” he fingers slide across louis’ perfect tummy. “i should have special brother privileges though. i mean, i’ve known you longer.”

“cut that out,” louis snips dramatically.

“well, i’m sorry, but it’s true!” harry traces his fingers back and forth against louis’ skin slowly, louis squirming on top of him. “since you were a toddler and i was a baby.”

“no, you dolt, ” louis corrects, “stop tickling me.”

harry laughs loudly. “oh, i’m sorry. that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me.” his hand slides down to louis’ hip and his nails drag there until louis is trying to wiggle out of harry’s arms unsuccessfully, breath in short bursts, giggling.

while harry is busy tickling somewhere a little too low to be considered good brotherly fun and louis is too immersed in squealing and pushing his fists into harry’s chest to slip away from him, they miss liam knocking on the door.

“i, um, brought tea?” liam steps into the room looking miffed. “thought harry was already asleep on the couch, i’m sorry.” he walks up to them and hands louis the cup of tea. “just had some extra left over because niall changed his mind and wanted beer instead.” he grins.

harry knows how bizarre this looks and hopes liam isn’t too uncomfortable. he quickly extracts himself form louis, unlocking his legs from louis’ and sliding to the other side of the bed. for the past week louis has decided they’re really dragging out the process of mourning zayn’s death by sharing a bed, so he’s taken to waking harry up early from bed and forcing him to lay on the couch until either liam or niall gets up to keep up appearances.

“yeah, i should probably get to sleep,” harry says. he shuffles out of the covers and walks out the door without sparing louis a glance, afraid if he does he’ll wink or do something else stupidly incriminating. he pretends to shut the door behind him, but leaves it open a crack just to hear liam say, as he makes his way down the hall, “don’t you think it’s time you stopped coddling him,” and harry doesn’t know what he’ll do if liam starts paying more attention to them.

louis doesn’t come out to fetch him after liam’s left and harry thinks maybe, just for tonight, it’s for the best. after all, he’s stil spent far more nights on the couch than in louis’ bed. but strangely enough, the couch is now so much more lumpy and bad on his back than he remembers it.

he wakes up a few hours later to something climbing on top of him and nearly jumps out of his skin. his arms go up in the air to block what he assumes is an attacker or burglar who’s accidentally sat on him in the dark trying to rob them, but his palm hits someone’s face and they yelp.

“fuck, harry!” louis cries. “are you my brother or jackie chan?”

“oh my god, i’m sorry, lou.” harry raises his arm to probe louis’ nose gently. “you’re not bleeding are you? i can’t see.”

“i should hope not, otherwise i’d be thinking you were mad at me for not liking queens of the stone age still.” louis is on top of harry’s waist, hands laid softly on his abs.

harry’s eyes narrow. “i didn’t forget that either.”

“well, you can relax. i didn’t come here to argue about boring bands, i came to sleep.”

harry raises his eyebrows. “here? on the couch?”

louis nods. “yeah, i’ll just get up and go back to my bedroom in the morning.”

“there’s barely enough room for me!” harry whispers hoarsely. “are you insane?”

“why can’t i sleep on your chest?” louis presses his lips together in a line, looking a little lost and embarrassed “you told me i was light.” harry’s chest constricts tightly.

“you can,” harry says sweetly, rubbing louis’ thighs gently, “and you are.”

they continue to whisper for a while in the dark with harry’s arm loosely around louis’ lower back and louis holding himself up over harry with his elbows, but then there is a lull in the conversation and harry coaxes louis’ face down onto his bare chest and makes sure the blanket is tugged up enough on top of louis to keep him warm. with his older brother splayed across him like an octopus harry doesn’t have to worry about not being warm.

-

“oi, flowers in the attic called, they want there lame, creepy plot-line back.” harry jerks awake as something white hits him in the face. his back lifts quickly off the couch and, with it, louis wakes up at once, hair mussed and cute under eye bags visible. his nose does look a little red from last night.

harry looks down at his chest. niall had tossed a napkin at him. “did you wipe your mouth with this?” harry asks in disgust. he whips it back at niall, who dodges it with an easy chuckle.

“you’ll never fucking believe my good news!” he yells loudly and harry winces and lifts his hands up to cover his ears. louis takes the opportunity to free himself from harry and stumble clumsily off the couch and into the armchair.

niall is practically bouncing up and down. “my boss at my new job saw my graphics on my work computer-“

“how?” louis asks, confused. “did you send him a power point or something?”

niall glares. “i set one as my desktop background.”

“awww,” louis coos. he shoots harry an amused look from the armchair.

“that’s cute, muffin,” harry says with as much support as he can muster after just waking up.

niall whacks harry with a newspaper left on the coffee table. “shut up, the both of you gits! i’ve been offered a job in the states!”

“what?” louis yips. “are you serious?”

“as a heart attack. there’s a branch in new york that specialize in comic book graphics!”

“well, shit,” harry mutters. “are you taking it?”

“i’d be stupid not to, wouldn’t i?” he asks. “it’s a lot more than i’m making here. i’ve only got to talk to liam about it.”

louis glances around the flat in confusion. “where is he, in the loo or something?”

“no, he went home early to change for class.” niall flops down on the couch with harry. “i can’t believe my luck.”

louis looks aghast. he shakes his head. “proud of you, mate.”

“thanks. it’s a shame i actually love the toss pop or this would be my one chance to get out,” niall jokes happily.

louis grins. “yeah, too bad i haven’t got a job promotion out of country to get away from eleanor.”

niall chuckles. “i’ll ask liam to put on one of his old halloween costumes and you can bring him round and tell her you’re taken.”

louis laughs with delight, but harry watches feeling a bit jealous. he wishes he could tell niall about them. they’ve grown to be quite good friends. but then, all the more reason to spend the little time they might have left having fun and not fucking things up.

“but then how would we explain i’m dating lady gaga?” louis asks, holding back a laugh. niall tosses his head back and laughs loudly. harry’s going to miss this.

-

the next night harry is snooping through louis’ things when he’s out with niall to pick up liam from work and tell him the news. harry would have gone, but he was in the shower when they left and he wanted to give the three of them some time alone to soak it in. plus, he didn’t feel like he was close enough to liam to comfort him in case liam got upset.

he flipped through the same notebook he’d once found a poem louis had written in, hoping to find something new. he started to get disappointed until he got to the very last page and found a few discombobulated stanzas scribbled down.

_herding him like a sheep._

_fuck tidying up and being neat._

_obsessed with him and the stains,_

_living the fabulous life of soda cans._

_grim reaper eye sockets so deep._

_mouth watering me as it seeps,_

_down the hall, out of my ear canal_

_to his coma state, and so straight to hell._

_gnawing on my thighs, that bit of my fat,_

_i push on his wings because they don’t retract._

_weaseling out of hell but not into heaven,_

_it’s useless in the needlepoint den._

_his body quivers from the weight of his wings._

_we live an edgar allen poe short story, but given_

_the situation, time ticks loud in my ears and speeds up._

_we spend every second far too petrified to fuck._

_his eyes roll backwards, deep in some realm_

_of pain or pleasure, it’s too hard to tell._

_stumble back into the fray looking sweaty and spent,_

_ignoring all our friends who are artificially intelligent._

_herding him like a sheep,_

_he could get to heaven if not for me._

_but since he can’t, he goes all out._

_maybe not for religion, but he’s sure devout._


	10. part nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you get out of school soon," louis muses, tugging a little pathetically at harry's shirt to pull him down. 
> 
> "so do you," harry says, letting himself be pulled flush down to louis. 
> 
> "we should do something to celebrate," louis says, one hand on harry's chest. "we could go to leeds?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, it's been a good eight months or so since i updated. maybe nine. i have no idea. i'm extremely sorry. there's only one part left after this and then this thing is fucking finished, finally.

harry has made a makeshift bong out of a water bottle and the whole fucking car reeks of pot.

louis is secondhand stoned _again_ and he doesn't even know if this is the third day or the fourth. it's a long way to leeds.

"harry, jesus, can i roll down a window?"

"no," harry breathes in a sultry voice. his head is bent back against the neck rest of the passenger seat and his eyes are closed.

"you fucking arrogant twat." louis is high as a kite, so he's laughing. he doesn't remember ever feeling this carefree. he loves harry, he loves the smoke in his car, he loves this road to nowhere, he loves the sunset.

harry giggles. "can we pull over?"

"why?" louis answers slowly, turning his head away from the road to look at his brother.

"i wanna jerk you off." louis starts to laugh, but it turns into a dry hacking. 

"sometimes i forget you're seventeen."

"sometimes i forget you're eighty-four."

"oi!" louis says, affronted. he pulls over in a rush, forgetting to use his turn signals. the car screeches to a halt.

harry's whole body snaps forwards and he nearly hits his head on the window. when his body bounces back, he's laughing.

harry turns to louis and smiles at him. "sometimes when i get really high i forget everything, even what my name is."

"do you ever forget we're brothers?" louis blurts. his stomach flips. he doesn't know what he wants to hear.

harry shakes his head no. "never," he promises, voice deep. "not even if i had banana kush."

louis snorts. "c'mere, stud," louis motions with one hand.

harry leans in and chastely kisses him, blowing some smoke into his mouth. when he backs off, his eyes are red-rimmed from the pot, but also something darker louis can't pin-point. his haze keeps him from thinking too much about it. then, he feels harry's monster hand sliding into his lap and his zipper being undone. he's not as gifted as harry is when it comes to being deft with his hands while high, so harry doesn't ask for anything in return, and that's how louis knows he's not dealing with a teenager. he's dealing with a boyfriend.

* * *

 

  
"lads, i'm leaving for america tomorrow. we have to go out and get drunk." niall kicks at harry's shin as harry lounges lazily on the couch watching tv. "what the fuck," niall declares. "stop being fucking boring."

"have you pre-gamed already, dude?" louis drawls with an american accent from the arm chair. harry wheezes loudly at him.

niall glares. "this might have been funny about a week ago, but i might not see you two until next fucking christmas," he stresses.

"i'm sorry, love," louis says more seriously. he stands up from his arm chair, back cracking from sitting down for too long. "where do you want to go?"

niall grins. "this is like a bachelor party." he glances over to harry, who's still lounging. "me and my two best mates."

"woohoo," harry says dimly. niall scowls.

" _haz_ ," louis says threateningly. "be nicer."

"yeah, kid," niall says with a grin. "listen to your dad."

harry bites back a laugh and a dirty joke. "look, it's just that - i'm gonna miss you." he avoids making eye contact with niall. "usually when someone skips town i never see them again."

niall definitely pre-gamed. he enthusiastically throws himself at harry, lands square on top of him and playfully punches him on the arm. "no fucking way. you're coming to new york for christmas. or i'll fucking kill you."

louis, embarrassingly, feels himself tearing up watching them. he sniffs to keep it from reaching his eyes, but niall, attuned to louis' emotions from living with him for so long, doesn't miss it.

"hey, princess, i'll miss you too." niall looks up at him so directly, louis' insides churn at the surreal idea at not living with his best mate anymore.

"like i care," louis sniffs, tears welling up in his eyes. "i'm going to put on my jacket. decide where you want to go."

he backs away before he becomes a full-blown mess.

* * *

  
"fuck," louis whines.

harry's sliding his hand along his shaft and he keeps taking his hand off to spit in his palm and go back to louis' dick. every time he does it, louis wants to die.

"stop moving your hand," he snaps.

harry, with a loose giggle, lets his hand rest very lax on louis' dick, not moving it at all. "that better?"

"no," louis says. "you know what i mean."

harry hums. "do you wanna get off like this, or should i finger you?"

"uh," louis stutters as harry grasps him a little tighter, "this is good."

"i love dick," harry murmurs thoughtfully. "it's like playing with a playstation controller that reacts back."

"oh my god," louis grimaces, "you're so gross."

"i also really like it when you come all over my hands and my chest," he pronounces, his hand sliding wetly up and down louis.

louis groans. "what about your face?" he yanks harry closer to him by the head, tugs on his hair and noses his cheek.

"that's my favorite," harry laughs.

"liar," louis says and starts to laugh at how ridiculous that would be, but harry slides away from louis again, bending his head down. for a second louis thinks he's going to blow him, but he doesn't take his hand off of him.

then he realizes harry is proving just how much he likes louis to come on his face and louis startles himself by shooting his load all over harry's mouth and neck.

harry blinks. "that was hot."

louis pants.

* * *

 

louis is massively, massively drunk. he sways on his feet and he's using his car as a prop to keep himself upright, both hands gripping his mirror. "i think the ground is moving. it might be an earthquake. looks like a seven point three," he babbles. "take cover under the car." he moves to sit on the ground and crawl under his vehicle.

harry slides up next to him and hauls him back up with both arms. "babe," he whispers into louis' ear, "let's walk."

"is it safe to walk?" louis asks in concern. the world is really shaking.

niall's face is suddenly right in front of his. "mate, you're really gone." he laughs, face pink and glowing.

"where are we?" harry asks, mystified.

"department store," niall answers happily. he raises his beer and drins the rest in one gulp, then tosses it into the backseat of the car through an open window.

"why?" harry asks. "it's two in the morning. nobody is gonna be in there."

"nostalgia," niall supplies. he turns back to louis and claps him on the shoulder. "hey, mate, you remember this place?"

louis' vision comes back and he realizes it's the place where he and niall snuck into two years ago. "the pillow fight," louis says.

he takes off like a bat out of hell. he can hear harry and niall shouting after him, but. fuck it.

louis turns around and opens his arms wide. "come on, horan, you pansy! you can't take me!"

* * *

 

"can i bum a fag?" louis asks harry while he's setting up the tent.

"i certainly hope so," harry digs into the back pocket of his skintight jeans, "or else we bought all these condoms for no reason."

louis snorts "no, really. we have no cigarettes?"

"no, but i can get some if you give me the money." harry throws him a toothy smile.

louis rolls his eyes. "here's some extra. get me something to drink."

"no problem, babe," harry says and kisses louis on the cheek before running off.

he's been so fucking happy lately louis can't stand it. it's turning him into a sappy idiot and the only thing he can think of to keep himself from thinking that something is bound to go wrong is to be constantly either tipsy or high. there's just no way the universe would ever grant two brothers the right to be together so easily.

somebody taps him on the shoulder. he turns around to see a tall guy with really heightened hair and a crooked smile. "hey, you wouldn't happen to have any extras of these tent things, would you?"

louis shakes his head. "nah, sorry, mate."

the guy has red face paint going down his nose and green across his cheeks. louis raises his eyebrows. "what are the christmas colors for?" he asks.

the guy laughs easily. "the only ones left at the booth out there." he points somewhere in the general direction of where harry ambled off to. "you can have some if you like. you here alone?"

"no, i'm with my boyfriend," louis says before he can think. his stomach twists. he knows nobody here will be none the wiser, but he feels a nagging sense of worry building up in his body.

"ah," the guy says, sounding disappointed. "well, i'm your neighbor." he points over to louis' left. "so if you need anything, let me know. i'm nick, by the way."

"sure, mate," louis says, "thanks." he watches the guy leave and wonders if he would have gone for the guy if not for harry.

"hey, got you beer." harry is back and is skating his hands up and down louis' spine. he's wearing a white tank top and black adidas shorts and has a red handkerchief pushing back his fringe. he looks gorgeous.

louis shivers. "thanks, darling." he opens the can and takes a sip. "what show are we going to tonight, then?"

* * *

 

angelic harry, white feathers in the air and falling all over him and getting stuck in his hair. louis smiles at him and moves to pull one out of his hair before harry grabs him around around tackles him onto the uncomfortable cardboard mattress of the department store.

it was lights off, closed for the night, but niall had a paperclip ready. to think he'd planned all this since the time they left made louis want to cry. now the lights are all on and niall is going crazy, ripping apart pillows by the dozen.

"guys, six hundred count egyptian cotton sheets!" niall screams from around the corner. "i'm taking these for our new apartment!"

"knock yourself out!" louis yells back. he's happy for niall and liam, he really is, but he's also going to be happy for himself to be able to have the flat alone with harry. not having to hide anything anymore.

"no more sneaking you in and out of my room at night," louis whispers, on his back. the cardboard mattress hurts his back, but he doesn't care.

harry, looming over him, grins. "no more holding your hand over my mouth when we fuck."

"aww, shucks," louis says sarcastically, "what a sap."

harry leans down and kisses louis' forehead. "you bet."

"you get out of school soon," louis muses, tugging a little pathetically at harry's shirt to pull him down.

"so do you," harry says, letting himself be pulled flush down to louis.

"we should do something to celebrate," louis says, one hand on harry's chest. "we could go to leeds?"

harry perks up. " _really?_ don't you have writing projects to work on this summer?"

"i can do those anytime," louis says with a shrug.

"yeah, but don't you want to get published soon?" harry kisses louis lightly on the mouth.

louis sighs. "let's just take some time to ourselves, yeah?"

"okay," harry nods. "i'd love to go with you."

louis grins. "great music, great weather-"

"great sex under the stars," harry finishes with a lopsided grin.

louis fidgets. "it's going to be great sex in the bedding section if you keep rubbing yourself into my thigh like that."

harry laughs hugely and rolls off the bed, stands up and sways a little. "let's go find niall."

niall is outside loading up louis' car with stolen sheets and blankets. louis groans. "you better not be on tape stealing."

"so what if i am?" niall asks merrily, "i'll be in another country this time tomorrow."

louis feels another rush of prickly sadness building up in him, so he swallows hard and looks at harry instead.

"is that...." harry's eyebrows crease as he pushes past a comforter in the trunk and finds several plastic containers. " _tupperware?_ "

niall glares. "liam likes to cook."

louis bursts out crying, hot tears streaming down his face.

"oh, no." niall grimaces. " _louis_."

"i'm fine," louis insists, wiping his face on the sleeve of his trench coat. but another sob comes out of his chest almost immediately and he cries sloppily into his own arm until he feels someone hugging him very tightly.

"c'mon, princess. there, there." niall rubs louis' back and rests his chin on louis' shoulder. "there's a good lad."

harry watches sadly from behind, clutching a tupperware container with a very tight grip. as soon as louis calms down, niall goes and hugs him as well, which causes harry to sniffle a bit before pulling himself together.

"what are we all crying for?" niall asks, chuckling. "i'm going to see you two sodding idiots at christmas."

louis nods up and down feircly and feels harry wrap a supportive arm around him.

* * *

 

"you're so tan." harry kisses louis' neck in their sleeping bag. he's wormed his way into louis', claiming it was better insulated. "and we've only been here a day."

"what can i say? i've got good genes."

"your topman's aren't anything special," harry jokes.

louis snorts. "idiot." he sits up for a second to take his sweaty shirt off so he can sleep better.

harry whines in protest, head falling off of louis' chest and onto the ground. "rude."

"sorry, dear." louis pets at harry's forehead. "anything good happen today while i was at the book shop?"

harry shrugs. "not really. saw a forty year old guy wearing tye dye hitting on a teenage girl."

"yuck," louis says, grimacing. "what did she do?"

"the girl?" harry asks, confused. "well, after she came up to me, i told her i really understood her position, because my boyfriend's practically a senior citizen-"

louis punches harry in the chest, glaring, and reaching a tone of hysteria. "she didn't really come up to you, did she?"

" _no_ ," harry admits, laughing. "you're so gullible."

frowning, louis lays back down. "has anybody come onto you here?"

"what?" harry asks, rolling his eyes. " _no_. why? has anybody come onto you?"

louis shakes his head without thinking. then he remembers their neighbor. "oh, there was that one guy."

harry's head snaps up. "what guy?"

"the guy from that tent over there," louis says, pointing to the left. he closes his eyes and pulls a blanket up over himself and his brother.

"you didn't tell me that," harry pouts.

"sorry," louis giggles. "it wasn't a big deal. he just asked if i was alone or not."

"what did you say?" harry asks quickly.

louis sighs heavily. "that i was here with my very tall and very possessive pro-wrestler boyfriend."

harry grins. "pro-wrestler? do you think i have the arms?"

louis playfully bends his head in the dark and bites harry's arm.

harry pauses for a bit, and then, "was he hot?"

" _harry!_ " louis scolds. "stop it this instant."

"stop what?" harry asks childishly.

"this weird jealously thing," louis says, knocking harry in the ribs with his elbow. "you're so dim."

"excuse me?" harry asks, insulted, clutching at his sides in the dark.

he kisses harry's temple in the dark. "relax." he rubs soothing circles into harry's side.

harry huffs. "i'm going over there first thing in the morning to tell him off for coming onto you. and then maybe kill him."

" _what?_ " louis yells. "i'm not going to sleep with some stranger i spent all of thirty seconds talking to."

harry rolls louis over rather roughly. "no, you aren't." bending down, he rolls the blanket up enough to uncover louis' legs and pull his sweatpants off. prying louis' thighs apart with a rough grip, he starts to nose at louis through his briefs.

"what are you, a dog?" louis says, laughing until harry gets his tongue inside of him. he cries out and grabs a hold of harry's hair, tugs on it harshly. "fuck."

harry continues to fuck into louis with his tongue while louis makes little high pitched whines. "you have the perfect hair for grabbing onto, really," louis says when harry pauses to breathe.

"what can i say?" harry sighs happily. "i've got good genes."

* * *

 

the next few days harry is a little off, a little tense. louis chalks it up to his hormones and lets him drink more than he normally would.

before they set out for an early afternoon concert, louis notices that he's being snappy and a bit mean. he sighs and pushes harry's baggie of weed over to him with a raised brow.

harry grimaces and seems to silently agree that, yes, this will probably mellow him out.

an hour later and they're at the show, and harry is in a very good mood, and greedily sucking on louis' bottom lip in the crowd. they meet one couple comprised of a young blonde girl and a young red haired guy and tell them they're boyfriends.

louis feels like he's harboring a bit of a dirty secret when they coo at harry, who repeatedly kisses the back of louis' neck and hugs him from behind.

* * *

 

they get back from the last show of the night exhausted. harry passes out on his own sleeping bag for the first time since they got there. in the middle of the night louis hears him stumbling out of the tent, presumably to go take a piss.

louis keeps his eyes open as long as he can, eyeing the glowing numbers on his phone. he wants to wait for harry to get back and cuddle up next to him, but after twenty minutes, he gives up and falls back asleep.

in the morning, harry is in a bad mood. he's short when louis asks him if something's wrong and louis backs off, knows harry does better when he blows off steam alone.

they sit outside their tent on some blankets having doughnuts for breakfast when their neighbor that louis met the first day stumbles out of his tent, stretching hugely. he has gigantic circles under his eyes and massive sex hair. louis catches a glimpse of a weird tattoo on his shoulder, a sailboat or something, then gets distracted by harry's mopey act, and turns back to his brother.

louis grins and elbows him, pointing to their neighbor. "what do you suppose? a threesome with one bloke and one bird last night? probably with all three wearing feather head pieces?"

harry purses his lips, fakes a smile. "we're out of smokes again. can i get some money?"

"already?" louis frowns. harry nods, looking down and picking idly at the grass. "i'm going to have to go to an atm tomorrow."

"being a teenager is expensive," harry shrugs, mouth a flat line.

humming agreeably, louis says, "then you shouldn't have decided to become one" and forks over some money.

harry doesn't come back.

* * *

 

panic sets in after the first two hours. one hour, he thinks, isn't too bad. harry probably got lost on the way back from the food carts and maybe stopped to see a show. by two hours, louis is afraid harry has been bound up and gagged and dragged away by serial killers.

he knows he's being a bit ridiculous, but it's in his nature.

by nightfall, louis is this close to calling the cops when he realizes, with a pang in his chest, that maybe this was harry's choice. maybe nobody _had_ to tie him up and drag him away. maybe harry was sick of his stuffy, suffocating older brother.

he has to bum some ambien off of a random girl to get to sleep that night. the next day is the last day of the festival and most of the tents around him have already been packed up. his neighbors have all but disappeared, and louis feels a rush of anxiety when he realizes if harry was really taken by someone, he wouldn't know where to look for louis once the festival ended.

he paces in his sweatpants, tearing up his feet on twigs and getting dirt all over his ankles.

* * *

 

after the panic has worn off, louis only feels angry and betrayed. he stews in his car, rubbing his palm over his mouth and wondering what his next move should be.

he's already called harry five times _this morning_ , never mind the endless amounts of calls the day before. harry's phone could be dead or harry could be ignoring him.

although the majority of harry's things had disappeared along with him. the only thing he left behind was his shampoo. he chucked it off into the woods angrily and regretted it right after because he didn't mean to take out his anger on the environment.

harry's phone charger is gone, which leads louis to believe that harry has really fucked up and done something awful, and is trying to avoid hearing a lecture from louis for as long as possible.

he hopes harry hasn't done any serious drug or fucked someone else. louis feel so sick to his stomach when he realizes he has to leave that day that he has to pull over halfway out of the parking lot to puke onto the pavement.

what if harry wants to come back and doesn't know where to look? should louis just go back home and hope harry hitchikes back? should he actually go ahead to the local police and put in a missing person's report?

* * *

 

"one bed?" the girl at the counter asks. she has dark hair in braids and fake tanner on. she chews gum while she jangles a set of hotel keys on her fingers, which have red polish on them.

"um, yes." louis' hands shake as he fumbles his wallet out of his pants and hands the girl his credit card.

"and how long will you be staying for?" she asks. her nametag reads maggie. maggie is probably going to get knocked up and have to deal with little brats running around this hotel for the rest of her life.

louis is in one of those moods where he's more angry than sad and hopes in a sort of mean spirited and cruel way that everyone who comes in his path is also having a terrible day.

"not sure yet," louis answers. "indefinitely." he knows he has to stay in town for a bit. he wants to kill harry.

maggie smiles and hands him a key. she has an engagement ring on her left hand. she's definitely not having a terrible day.

* * *

 

louis does that thing lying in his lumpy hotel mattress that night where he's analyzing every thing that harry said and did in the last few days. he's coming up blank. the only thing that really sticks is the way harry was so upset about louis having been hit on by their neighbor, but louis is suddenly too tired to make any connections.

all he can think of is how horrible this mattress is and how much more comfortable his sleeping bag was, on the dirt, with harry. he's too angry to cry, but he knows himself, and does realize that if he wasn't so angry, he would be crying now.

* * *

 

"how many sugar packets?" maggie asks with a very genuine smile the next morning at breakfast. he can tell the other guests were also staying after a very rowdy day at leeds, because they're all obviously hungover.

one guy very nearly sticks his head in his corn flakes and his mate has to shake his shoulders to snap him out of it.

"three, please," louis murmurs, staring sullenly at her ring.

"i'm getting married in few days," she says, smiling even more brightly. "at the church, over on lexington. don't know if you noticed it on the way through town."

louis shakes his head. "no, i didn't. but it sounds lovely."

he honestly wishes her the best, but he knows what can happen in a few days. of course it's louis' rotten luck that his boyfriend deserted him. he does realize that not all people get deserted. it just seems to be a running gag in louis' life.

"thanks!" she says, dropping extra sugar packets in front of louis.

louis bites his lip and texts harry from beneath the table.

_where the hell are you_

* * *

he's still at the hotel five days later. he's on a first name basis with all the employees and he fears he might become a permanent resident soon. all the tourists left over from leeds have cleared out and louis is alone except for an old couple with one young daughter who don't speak to him at breakfast.

maggie always sits down with him and asks him questions. he knows she's taking pity on him, but he tries to be polite anyway. he does end up eventually telling her some of what's going on.

"what's her name?" she asks over tea.

louis glares. "aren't you on the clock?"

she giggles. "it's dead, can't you tell?" she eyes the older couple and their daughter. "besides, i already fed everyone."

he frowns and fiddles with his cup of tea, swirling the spoon around inside of it for another minute before speaking. maggie waits patiently.

"his name is harry."

maggie gives him a dopey smile.

louis sighs. "he's younger than me and he's a bit of a wild cannon."

"and how did he break your heart?" maggie asks very simply. he kind of wants to throw his hot tea in her face, but only kind of.

louis clears his throat. "he - i don't know. he hasn't called me back in almost a week. we live together, and came here for leeds, and i lost him."

"you're wound awful tight, aren't you?" she says with a grin. "do you ever relax?"

"you sound just like him, maggie." louis drinks his tea with a judgmental glare.

"write about it," she advises matter of factly, tucking some stray hair from her sloppy braid behind her ear.

"sorry?" he asks.

she rolls her eyes. "every morning you're sitting at this table scribbling in a notebook, aren't you?" she doesn't wait for him to answer before walking away.

* * *

 

the next day there's a brutal storm rolling in. louis doesn't even get out of bed to go to breakfast. the wind rattling the cheap windows in his hotel room scare him a bit and he's so emotionally drained from calling harry over and over and getting his stupid voicemail.

he pulls on a jumper and sits cross-legged in bed for several hours staring at a blank notebook page. he keeps retracing his steps in his head. harry was so upset when louis said the guy in the tent next to them had flirted with him. he'd even sworn up and down that he'd go and tell the guy off the next morning.

but did he?

louis puts his head between his knees and thinks deeply. he doesn't know. he woke up long after harry that day. not that it really _matters_ , louis thinks. it's not as if anything happened between the two of them.

but then he remembers a couple days later when harry left in the middle of the night and didn't come back for - well, at least twenty minutes. what if - what if he'd slept with that guy? their neighbor?

was it possible that harry ran off for fear of louis finding out that harry cheated on him after telling louis he could never do what stan did?

god, louis can't remember anything. he's so frustrated. he thinks about the only time he saw them both at the same time. harry hadn't looked at the guy once. a bit strange, louis thinks, considering harry had wanted to beat him up just a few days before.

harry had been so interested in who this guy was and what he looked like, if louis thought he was hot, and then never even looked up to see the guy when he was standing right behind them.

louis anxiously taps his pen against his notebook. the guy was sort of hot, he supposed. great hair, really teased up, and nice eyes. he was sort of tall, had that tattoo on his shoulder. what was it again? a boat or or something?

a sailboat.

louis gasps, hand coming up over his mouth. he thinks back to when he'd first asked harry about his anchor tattoo.

_“got it with my ex-boyfriend a year ago,” he says calmly. “he has the sailboat.”_

louis shakes.


	11. part ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "haz, what do you want?" louis asks, frustrated. "because it sounds like you don't know."
> 
> "you," he supplies instantly. "nobody's ever going to want you like i do. nobody's ever going to understand me like you can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a big thank you for everyone who's actually kept up with this story. you're truly troopers. hope you're not disappointed in this ending (it is a happy one). please leave me comments if you have the time. a big fuck you to some other people, etc. 
> 
> a small reminder that the title of this story is from the song "two" by the antlers ("daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up. built the gears in your head, now he greases them up").

as soon as louis figures it out he wants to tell someone - anyone. it twists horribly in his chest and he doesn't think he'll be able to breathe until he can spit it out and he wants to hear a voice besides his own. his fingers are scrolling through his contacts to find niall before he realizes he can't fucking call niall. he's halfway to hanging up, but it's too late. niall's voicemail beeps menacingly and waits for him to speak.

_hey, niall. it's louis. what advice would give me if harry hypothetically ran off with his ex-boyfriend and left me in a strange town to worry myself sick? and for the sake of this hypothetical situation, let's say i was also sleeping with harry. have a think and ring me when you decide._

louis sighs into his phone. "hi, it's me. call me back, okay?" he hangs up.

he twitches all over from pent up anxiety, finally being able to ignore the thunder storm happening outside his rattling hotel window.

as awful as it is to realize, he's almost relieved. it was better, for harry's sake, that he didn't run off with a complete stranger. it stings, but he's probably safe.

he's safe, that is, unless he finds harry. because louis is going to fucking wring his neck.

he falls backwards in bed, tossing his notebook uselessly to the side again. he falls asleep and when he wakes up, it's because his phone is ringing shrill by his pillow. he's groggy and his neck is sore from the cheap pillows.

he doesn't want to answer and he almost doesn't until he blearily opens his eyes and sees that it's niall getting back to him. hopefully with a solution to all of his problems.

"mmm?" louis mumbles into the phone.

"oh, that's ace. nice way to answer the phone when i haven't seen you in months," niall bites.

louis groans into his pillow. "it's been a week and a half."

"blimey," niall realizes. "wouldn't have guessed."

"do they not have calendars in america?" louis quips, closing his eyes again. he's afraid he's going to fall back asleep on the phone.

"do they not have clocks in england?" niall fires back. "who _are_ you? do you know what time it is there?"

louis moans. he rolls over across the bed, still under the covers, to reach the bedside table. "hold on. there's an amazing story behind this. i'm reaching for the alarm clock. i'm reading the time right now."

"you know what i'm reading right now?" niall asks, not waiting for a guess. "harry's cell number. it's an amazing story of a guy who better not be keeping you up all night partying. you have novels to write."

" _fuck_ ," louis snarls with one hand blocking the end of the phone so niall won't hear. "don't call him," he manages when he's a bit calmer.

"why not?" niall asks passively. he sounds like he's chewing.

louis freezes. "wait. call him. but don't say i'm looking for him. just ask him where he is."

"okay, nutter. i'll ring you back."

niall hangs up and louis can feel his eyes as round as saucer pans, staring off into space with a horrified look on his face. what has he done? was it stupid to leave this in niall's hands? louis rubs at his forehead roughly. he ends up walking to the vending machine down the hall while he waits.

the storm is, unsurprisingly, still in full swing. the wind chimes that looked so heavy and immovable the sunny day louis showed up to this hotel are now being battered around like toothpicks against the windows outside. he eats peanut butter crackers quietly in his uncomfortable bed with his phone sitting impatiently in his lap. after about forty minutes, it finally rings.

"finally, jesus."

"yeah, listen." niall sighs heavily. "i didn't actually talk to harry."

"what?" louis snaps. "then what were you doing all this time?"

"i was talking to nick. do you know him?" niall asks casually. "he said he met you at the festival."

louis glares daggers out his window. "yeah, i fucking met him. what did he say?"

"christ, calm down," niall orders. "he said - don't get mad."

louis can feel his legs jittering again. "i'm already mad."

"he said harry's been a mess. he locked himself in the bathroom today and hasn't come out to eat or drink anything." louis says nothing.

niall clears his throat. "for some reason, nick thought you were harry's boyfriend, but didn't know your name, so he said he almost didn't answer when harry's phone went off. he thought it might have been you calling."

louis bites the inside of his cheek. "i _have_ been calling."

"oh," niall says. "well, i told nick you were his brother. he kept knocking on the door telling harry you were calling. he said harry started crying."

louis drops his head into his hands, a familiar panic associated with all things harry roaring back up in his body. "do you know where they are?" he chokes.

"no," niall answers, "the bloke wouldn't say. kept telling me harry would kill him if he said."

louis accidentally heaves a sob into the phone. he would have stopped himself, but he hadn't felt it coming. it ripped through him like nothing he'd ever felt before. he didn't know what to think. if harry had purposefully abandoned him, why was he upset?

" _lou_." niall always gets uncomfortable when louis cries.

"sorry," louis says, sniffling. "you don't think nick is, like, a mass murderer, do you?"

niall sighs. "no, he seemed nice. he was begging harry to unlock the bathroom door for half an hour. he told harry he'd slide the phone under the door to talk to me, but harry said no."

"what has he been doing for the past week?" louis asks in monotone. isn't sure he really wants to know. he can guess it must have been nice to be reunited with his ex.

"getting drunk a lot. nick said he almost got arrested one night for fighting somebody in a bar. and i guess they were going to press charges, so nick had to pay them off."

"sounds like my dad," louis muses, devoid of humor.

niall clears his throat. "yeah, or me."

louis can feel himself tearing up, so he has to get off the phone. "speaking of you, i should let you go. you probably have plans for dinner with liam."

"yeah," niall sighs into the phone deeply. "i'm calling you later, dickhead. love you," he adds gruffly.

"you too. give liam my best," louis says.

then, he's alone with his thoughts again. on his bed, his pen and paper are so foreign to him they look like something out of a sci-fi movie. he hasn't written anything more elegant than a _where r u?_ since harry left.

* * *

the thunder is so bad he thinks a natural disaster - a typhoon or hurricane - is upon the hotel when he wakes up. now the windows rattle so badly the curtains move as if a ghost was slowly raking it's hand behind them. the painting over the bed hasn't done much more than timidly shake, but louis fears it's going to decapitate him in the night.

he rolls drowsily out of bed and pads out of his room and down the hall in just his bare feet and pajamas. he's hoping somebody will be awake at the front desk to tell him whether he should collect his life vest and blow-up raft now or later.

one look out the window in the hall and his joke no longer seems funny. every dip in the pavement outside is full of water and the main road looks like a pond. two street lights shadow the trees, which violently shake over all the cars in the parking lot, with water dripping down their tires.

it reminds him of the scene in alice in wonderland where alice cries an ocean, then floats away through it inside of a bottle. by the look of what's going on outside, he could probably float down the street just the same, and end up in another country. it's a soothing thought.

when he gets to the front desk he realizes that there's a congregation in the check-in area. people dripping puddles as they walk, people wringing their hair out on the carpet. louis is thankful he's already been here for a week, because he can't imagine there will be enough rooms for everyone.

a man wearing a suit dumps his briefcase upside down onto the front desk and presents wet money to an employee lous doesn't know, who takes it hastily. louis scans the line of people waiting gloomily behind him, looking over the man's shoulder as if to check for how many keys are left to take.

the front door opens, jangling the set of bells on the inside of the door. wind blows in and chills louis to the bone. he hugs his arms around his waist in his button-up night shirt. two guys walk in - one in a leather jacket and one only in a tee shirt.

louis cranes his neck around the crowd formed in front of him and freezes when the two guys turn to look at him.

" _louis?_ " harry blurts, jaw dropping. his black tee shirt probably weighs forty pounds with how wet it is, straining over harry's stupidly nice chest. nick reaches out his arm behind harry's soaking back to help push him through the crowd. but louis is already walking back the way he came.

his heartbeat pounds in his ears, sounding so loud it's like another concert, only in his head this time. he's thinking so many things at once - his first instinct was too run, so that's what he did. however, his second instinct is so turn right back around, pad barefoot back to harry, and slap him in the face.

he expects harry to be horrified to have managed to end up at the same motel as louis, so he doesn't expect harry to be following him. when louis looks over his shoulder, he sees harry sprinting behind him, the clerk shouting at him that he hasn't been given a room.

louis bolts past the vending machine with fresh, hot tears clouding his vision. he's a foot from making it to his door when harry grabs his shoulder and shoves him against the wall. louis is lucky the other rooms beside his are empty, because he would hate to have somebody come out to get a snack and see louis crying, being pinned against the wall by harry.

"i've never seen you run that fast," harry pants, his mammoth paw holding louis' shoulder to the wall. he doesn't even need to use both hands to hold louis captive, which is wholly embarrassing.

"get off of me," louis spits, refusing to make eye contact with harry. he can't believe harry has the nerve to try and make small talk with him.

"we saw-" harry pants, "your car - in the car park." he gives louis a hopeless, pleading expression.

" _what?_ " louis snaps.

harry digs his fingernails into louis' arm through his pajama shirt and now louis can feel his clothes getting wet from harry. "i was going to drive back home with nick. i thought you'd already be there. but i thought i saw your car, so i pulled in."

"well, you can get right back in the car and pull back out," louis advises. "sleep in the mud for all i care, but don't sleep in this motel."

harry looks beyond hurt. "i'm sorry," he says, starting to cry, "i'm sorry. but i was weighing you down. you never would have been able to write anything all summer because of me. and i didn't think i was cut out for this." he cries openly now, grimacing. "but i saw dad and i can't be like him."

for a second, louis feels genuine sympathy for harry. their dad is disgusting, a drunken useless sack of shit with no concept of how to care for other people. but then, right now, harry is no different. "i don't care if you saw the fucking ghost of elvis presley!" he yells, roughly shoving his fist into harry's chest to push him back. "just fuck off! i hate you!"

harry backs off just a few inches, but keeps his hand on louis' shoulder. "are you saying that as my brother or my boyfriend?"

"fuck you!" louis snarls. "what does it matter?"

"because i'm afraid of turning into dad." harry looks down and swallows hard. "what if i can't help it? i'm angry all the time. what if i hurt you?"

louis curls his lip. "what if you hurt me? you fucking prick!" he punches harry feebly in the chest again, but harry doesn't look like he feels it.

"no, louis! i mean really, _really_ hurt you. don't you remember how awful dad got after he drank? i can't do that to you."

louis' hands shake and he feels like he could vomit at any moment. "the kitchen fire?" he asks reluctantly. he doesn't want to get into this. it's ancient history.

harry nods, looking relieved that louis remembers. "mum was teaching you how to use the stove and you set a fire-"

"i know what fucking happened," louis says agitated. he's always felt guilty for it, for causing it all.

"i came home with dad-"

"harry, i was there, okay?"

"and he hit her so hard she cracked her forehead open on the cabinet behind her," harry finishes.

"why are we talking about this?" louis asks, shivering from how cold harry's hands are on him and how wet his clothes still are.

harry exhales. "because that's me in ten years. i walked into a bar with nick-"

"don't tell me this," louis begs. he doesn't want all the gory details about harry's drunken escapades with nick.

"no," harry says, shaking his head, "you don't know where this is going. _dad was there._ i didn't even know we were in great preston. we just drove around for ages and stopped at a bar." harry pauses, grimacing at the memory. "i was so happy to see him - i fucking _hugged_ him."

louis waits with a quiet dread, feeling harry's fist curl so tightly into his pajama shirt that it hurts. "he called me sport. he bought me a drink. after five minutes, he fucking looks and me and smiles and says ' _is louis still a faggot_ '?"

louis flinches. "i haven't seen dad since i was twelve."

"yeah," harry nods. "i told him he was a shit dad and a fucking loser and he hit me. he was drunk; i don't know why i was surprised. but-" harry hangs his head in shame. "i smashed my glass beer bottle over his head."

"you-" louis stutters, " _why_?"

harry shrugs. "was angry. at him, at myself. got the impulse and just - ran with it. nick pulled him off of me, because he got in a few good punches in my ribs after that. then, someone called the cops and nick paid off the owner of the bar so i wouldn't be arrested."

"your _ribs_?" louis yelps. "are you- did you break anything?"

"no," harry says. he lets go of louis' shoulder slowly, with worry in his eyes, probably thinking that louis would bolt. louis stays put and watches harry pull up his sopping wet tee shirt. there are awful purple bruises the size of apples on his torso.

"look-" harry says, "i'm not trying to make you feel bad for me. but can i come in?" he looks towards the door louis is standing next to.

louis feels ill from listening to this story, nodding and letting harry slide past him into the room before he thinks.

he walks into the room after harry, sluggish. "did dad - when you were little, did he say i was a faggot?"

harry sits on the corner of louis' bed, head hanging down. "louis-"

"oh." louis nods and paces back and forth across the small room. "i guess i don't really care. i didn't know him well enough to care. i'm sure he's said worse to you."

harry says nothing, sitting very still on the bed. then, "he always said mum didn't want to see me because i was too much trouble. he said she hated me because i was too much like him."

"take off your boots," louis mutters. "you're going to catch pneumonia."

"did you hear me?" harry asks, finally looking up.

louis shrugs. "he lied. mum only had you spend time with him over me because she figured you would be too young to remember when you grew up. take off your boots."

harry gapes at him, eyes brimming up, glassy. "okay." he kicks off his shoes and his pale feet rest on the shitty wood floor, almost translucent.

"take off your jeans. you can borrow something of mine." louis rubs tiredly at his forehead wrinkles. "mum said i was too sensitive to handle dad. she said you were the brave one and i was the wise one."

harry keeps a blank face until the end and then snorts, managing amusement even through his shivers. "she was right about that."

"if by brave she meant psychotic," louis clarifies agreeably.

harry winces. "i can room with nick. i just wanted you to know why i left." his voice cracks. "i don't want you to get distracted and lose focus on your dreams, or for us to end up like mom and dad. i really am in love with you."

louis turns his back to harry to open up his suitcase sitting on the floor. mostly everything has been emptied out onto every table or spare bit of floor, but there's a pair of sweatpants he knows harry likes of his that he finds.

"put these on and take off your shirt," he instructs. "and stop treating me like i'm not capable of making my own decisions. some things are more important than my imaginary career." he snorts. "and you're nothing like dad."

harry shakes his head sadly. "i can't stop getting drunk or getting arrested or hurting you. that sounds just like dad."

louis stands in front of harry, his shins bumping into harry's knees. he bites his lip and takes a fistful of harry's wet hair, almost hurting him. "you're crying and apologizing. i've never seen dad do either."

harry chokes, tears sliding down his nose. "does that mean you can forgive me?"

"haz, what do you want?" louis asks, frustrated. "because it sounds like you don't know."

"you," he supplies instantly. "nobody's ever going to want you like i do. nobody's ever going to understand me like you can."

louis roughly scrubs one hand over his mouth. "no? not nick?"

"no," harry says hoarsely. "i don't need anybody but you. you're my brother." he weakly fists at louis' pajama shirt again.

"you say brother, but you mean something else," louis says, wanting to laugh but not being able to.

"i don't know," harry struggles, "soulmate maybe. we're the same. we came from the same genes. i wasn't meant to love anybody but you. it was set when i was still in the womb because you were there before me. does that make sense?"

louis swallows. "it's okay. i was waiting for you, anyway." it has a double meaning.

harry inhales sharply and lets louis bend down and kiss his forehead. "put on some warm clothes," he says gently. he knows harry is right. he isn't meant to be with anyone but harry either. 

* * *

 

"i'm not sleeping on the couch in their apartment." harry throws a pair of jeans into his suitcase hastily. "you're telling niall we want to share the guest bedroom."

"the _fuck_ i am," louis laughs.

it's december nineteenth and their first flight to america is so early tomorrow morning they've decided to forego sleep altogether. they're stopping in the midwest before they can get out to new york. louis is excited to drink coffee to stay awake all night and set up camp in their living room like harry had wanted ever since leeds.

_"i wish we had camped out in sleeping bags when we were kids," harry had mused in the dark while they were still in that motel during the near flood. "like, under sheets propped up by chairs and telling ghost stories."_

_louis had curled up in harry's arms, listening intently. "we camped out at leeds for real, though, outside."_

_"yeah, but i want it to be like we're whispering so we don't wake mum up, and kid stuff."_

louis had thought of so many ways to deal with the loose ends when they'd finally gotten back home, he'd had to write a list. which harry had found. he was claiming it was accident, that he had been searching for an empty notebook to use as a coaster for soda, but louis wasn't buying it.

 _"_ tell niall that mum slept with some random guy when she'd gotten pregnant with harry, so we're only half brothers? _" harry had read aloud, bellowing with laughter. "you do see the flaw in this, don't you?"_

_louis had glared. "piss off. i was just going through every possible option."_

_"how about the option where we tell niall i was dropped onto our doorstep by a stork and mum just decided to keep me," harry had suggested, trying to maintain a serious expression._

_rolling his eyes, louis elbowed harry in the gut. "prat. it's just- hard- not being able to tell him."_

_"i wish we could tell him too." harry swooped in and squeezed louis tightly, giving him a bear hug. he could probably tell louis got close to tears whenever he thought about keeping secrets from niall. "maybe after ten or so christmas' with him, he'll just sort of work it out."_

_"forget it," louis had muttered, "but bullet six on that list is still feasible."_

_harry had glanced down and sucked in a deep breath when he'd read it for the first time. "louis...are you sure this is something you'd be okay with?"_

_louis had slipped his glasses off his nose, sprawled across the couch, waiting for harry to sit next to him. "it would be so much easier."_

_bullet six read "_ change harry's last name legally so we can at least openly date in europe. _"_

"when we get back, we're getting you into that private school two towns over and we're going apartment hunting." louis grunts as he tries feebly to sit on top of his suitcase to get it to zip. because he had so many presents for niall and liam it was bulkier than it had ever been before.

"my stock will plummet." harry sighs. "starting all over means nobody will know how many times i've been to jail."

louis rolls his eyes. "you can go door to door in our new neighborhood. print up some nice neon green newsletters."

"to announce there's a new juvenile delinquent in town," harry finishes.

louis hums. "and if we hate all our neighbors, we can do another set of flyers telling them we're actually brothers so they leave us alone."

harry chuckles. "i'm sure i'll hate them. i hate everyone who's not you."

"good," louis says fondly. "you'll only have one year to do there. you don't need any friends."

"i'm not going to even have niall as a friend if you can't get your suitcase closed," harry jokes, "we're going to miss our flight."

louis raises his eyebrows. "our flight is ten hours from now."

"exactly," harry says, "you're not going to gain any more muscle mass to get your suitcase shut in ten hours."

"dick!" louis exclaims, gasping. he whacks harry on the arm, but lets harry pick him up off the bed by the waist and set him on his feet.

"let a real man through," harry says, smirking. within thirty seconds, he's gotten everything shoved in the suitcase and gotten it to zip. he acts extremely put out by louis' lack of ability in lifting heavy objects, but jumps at every single chance to display his strength to louis.

"you don’t really look seventeen,” louis mutters, agitated.

harry snorts. "stop pretending you mind."

"pompous git."

harry grins down at him. "aren't you glad you didn't send me back to boarding school after we made out in that public toilet?"

louis shrugs, trying not to crack a smile. "you jerked me off. we didn't just make out."

“i hope it was worth it,” harry taunts.

“it was,” louis promises. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, just a reminder that in part eight this happened: "sometimes when he’s in the shower he glances down at his anchor tattoo, thumbs over it, and wonders what nick’s doing that very moment. he’s only spoken to him a handful of times over the phone since he left and nick’s dating some guy his own age finally - somebody named olly, for christ’s sakes."
> 
> i know that part probably seemed unimportant, but i was trying to get the point across so that when this chapter happened it would be known that harry wasn't getting back together with nick. louis had concerns that harry had slept with nick, but it was never said that he did. the phone conversation niall had with nick also hinted that harry was too upset about louis to be having sex with anyone else. 
> 
> sorry if this got confusing, but i didn't mean to suggest harry and nick had actually slept together, it was just another one of louis' paranoid thoughts, similar to when he thought harry might have been kidnapped.


End file.
